


Combeferre's Bimonthly Movie Marathon Extravaganza; AKA How Two Idiots Finally Got Their Shit Together

by daarntootin



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Aggressively Awkward Sexual Tension, Bahorel/Jehan - Freeform, Blowjobs, Combeferre/Courfeyrac - Freeform, Cosette Fauchelvant/Marius Pontmercy, Cuddles, D/s a tiny bit nothing explicitly in that range but Enj is a v dominant lover, E/R - Freeform, Ferre has slumber party weekends twice a month, Fluff, Hickeys, I might add Ép to that who knows, I sure don't because why would I ever plan what I write?, Marking, Mature for now maybe explicit later, Minor Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Multi, R cooks pizzas, R's poor neck is mottled at this point, Smut, because he loves his friends sO MUCH, but as for now, but those are pretty blatant now, it exists now, man i'm useless, rushed fanfiction because these two are idiots, so if you aren't into that the chapters where it happens will be marked so you know, the most important OT3 fight me, there were "blink if you miss it" D/s undertones, these tags should be useful and they aren't because I'm lame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daarntootin/pseuds/daarntootin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire knows better than to put himself in a situation where he has to spend too much time alone with Enjolras. But for some ungodly reason he cannot stop putting himself in situations where he's spending too much time alone with Enjolras. And then spending time with Enjolras plus all their friends while trapped in the Triumvirate's appartment marathoning movies for a weekend and honestly the whole place smells like pizza and beer and sweat and coffee and sometimes that lavender spray Jehan carries everywhere (god bless that perfect perfect fae like individual for wanting things to smell nice) but if it means he's sitting pressed against Enjolras' side with the lights down low as their friends breathe quietly in the darkness than maybe its worth it. Maybe. Not likely but also not impossible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paper Cuts and Hand Sanitizer

One of the oddest phenomenon in a person’s life is a paper cut. In the grand scheme of things, paper cuts are insignificant; they’re even insignificant on a micro scale of things. But paper cuts are just odd, a thin piece of paper, one you could easily rip in half, acts as a razor blade against your skin, and pain receptors flood to the surface and then are exposed to the air giving you that awful sensation of your heart pounding in the centimeter wide cut on your thumb. What’s worse is when you get a paper cut, but don’t initially notice it, you go on with your life, bleeding slowly but unaware entirely of the pain, and then you use hand sanitizer, or use lemon juice while you’re cooking and suddenly your entire body’s focus has been pin pointed on this small razor thin cut on your hand that you have no recollection of getting.

Every time Grantaire got a paper cut, he thought of Enjolras. This was stupid because first of all, Enjolras is a human being, and second of all, Grantaire is decidedly not that kind of masochistic. Or maybe he is but it’s not like he was about to tell anyone that. But the fact remained that the feeling of being in love with Enjolras was not all that dissimilar to the feeling of a paper cut. That throbbing ache that wouldn't stop or it would but then suddenly you’d think about it and there it was all over again. And it had started out as one of the ones you don’t notice right away, just a little irritation in your thumb, and then one day he ate something salty and there it was. Right in front of him and really fucking annoying. And gorgeous. And loud. And perfect. And those hands…

“Grantaire!” He jolted in his seat, biting at his thumb and blinking up at Enjolras, “Yes oh fearless leader?” He moved the sketchbook in his lap quickly, hiding the sketch of what would probably be all too familiar hands splayed across the page.

Enjolras just huffed; arms crossed against his chest as he stood a few feet away, “The meeting ended five minutes ago. You can stop pretending to care now.” He turned from him easily, dismissively, like he’d already left. But there was a tightness in his voice, a nervousness that unsettled Grantaire. Or maybe he was just drunk. Yeah it was probably that one.

Grantaire just gathered his things and stood up smoothly and walked past him, “And just so you know Apollo, I do listen, but you know my feelings on FEMEN already so I didn't feel the need to interject.” His smile was a little bitter but really, Enj had it coming, or that's what the three rum and cokes were saying anyhow. He started towards the door, waving over his shoulder as he stepped out into the cool air.

“Hold a moment if you would.” Enjolras said in a shockingly normal tone of voice.

Grantaire turned on his heel, his pen flying out from behind his ear and skittering to a stop at Enjolras’ feet. Fucking ironic. “Would you mind?” Enjolras managed a small smile and picked up the pen and stepped toward him, Grantaire figured he owed him the decency of meeting him halfway. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” And then one of the far too familiar unfillable and uncomfortable silences settled over them. Enjolras coughed and adjusted his shirt–do not look at his chest Grantaire–and caught Grantaire’s eyes, “So tomorrow, um, Ferre is having this…get together-”

“The first of the bimonthly movie marathon nights, yes I’m aware.” And he was. He was incredibly aware of the movie marathon nights that ended in everyone sleeping tangled together on the floor and couch, he was aware of the food and the drinking and laughter and inside jokes borne of these movie marathons, despite never having been to one.

“Oh.” That seemed to stop Enjolras in his tracks and he shifted stiffly, “Well, I-well, Ferre was and I suppose I am too, wondering if you would be interested in joining us tomorrow evening and the rest of the weekend really.”

Grantaire paused, just to throw him off and to settle the pounding in his heart, though the latter was near impossible to do, “Sure. Yeah I could do that. See you tomorrow mon Ange.” Enjolras rolled his eyes and stepped back inside and Grantaire turned to leave.

It wasn’t until he got home that he realized Enjolras still had his pen, and that feeling of hand sanitizer in a fresh paper cut seared through his mind all over again.

God he was so fucked. 


	2. Grantaire Is Very Good At Making Very Bad Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which: Bad Plans Are Made and Grantaire Has to Go Shopping

He woke up to a phone call and stiff shoulders. Gross.

With a groan and roll he grabbed his phone only to see Enjolras’ name (and maybe a sneakily taken picture of him in profile. Possibly.) shining up at him. He slid his thumb across the screen and set the phone groggily against his ear, “Hello?”

“Grantaire, hello! …Did I wake you up?” Enjolras sounded far too eager for a man at whatever ungodly hour it was.

Grantaire blinked at the alarm clock, which had definitely not started its squawking,  on his bedside table, “Enjolras it is eight thirty in the morning, so you can safely assume you woke me up, now are you hurt is someone dying, is there a house on fire with a kitten in it that needs saving? Because seriously, those are the only good reasons for waking me up before ten on a Friday.”

“Why specifically on a Friday?” That was all Enjolras seemed to get out of Grantaire’s little rant.

“I don’t work on Fridays and I enjoy sleeping instead. Three day weekends are a thing for me and I am generally pretty intent upon enjoying them. Seeing as the rest of the week I wake up at six in the morning to help open the museum. Now tell me again why you’re calling me at eight thirty in the morning?”

There was silence on the other side for a moment, Grantaire was just about to ask if Enjolras was still there when the man cleared his throat and started speaking again, “Sorry about that, I’d forgotten about your internship with the museum. I called because of tonight’s event.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes and sat up in bed. His wonderfully dramatic friends couldn’t just hang out, or have a get together or a party for god’s sake they had to have an “event”. “Yes Enjolras, what about tonight’s bimonthly movie marathon?” He could hear Enjolras’ scowl, it made him proud.

“Just wanted to remind you to bring food, and if you can try and make it gluten free so Joly can eat it too.”

“Is he eating dairy again?”

“Yes, he’s reintroduced it this week, he’s very nervous because so far he hasn’t had a reaction and he’s waiting for one.”

“I’ve got a recipe for gluten free pizza, think that’ll go ever well?”

Enjolras laughed then, it was glorious.

“It’s pizza, frankly we’ll just be lucky if Courfeyrac doesn’t eat it all himself.”

Grantaire snorted, “Right like Bahorel isn’t going to get to it first.” God now he could hear Enjolras _grinning_ over the phone, he felt stupid and twelve and hugged a pillow to his chest to complete the image.

“We’ll probably have to rip them apart in order to get any for the rest of us.”

“I’ll make two then, one for Bahorel and Courf to fight over, and one for the rest of us common folk with manners.” There was an awkward silence then, the realization of the two of them having a perfectly pleasant conversation with no shouting at all was startling to them both. Grantaire coughed and straightened up a little, “Well, I’ll uh, I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Yes, yes that sounds good. I’ll see you there. Or here I suppose. Do you need our address I can text it to you?”

Grantaire nodded and then remembered that that’s definitely not how phone’s work, “Oh yeah, right, that’d be great thanks.”

“Okay I’ll do that then…See you later Grantaire.”

“See you Enj.”

And then silence.

Grantaire fell backward on to the bed and pulled the pillow over his face with a groan. This was dumb and bad and an absolutely horrific idea. Bad, very bad indeed why hadn’t he thought about it until right now?

He’d be forced to spend the weekend in close proximity to _Enjolras_. Radiant, godlike Enjolras. With that hair and those eyes, and his long fingers and the freckles on his nose. How many times had he sketched just the top half of his face, scattering infinitesimal freckles across the page, trying to mimic the perfect shading under his eyes with the way his stupidly long eyelashes fell, and the perfect curvature of the bridge of his nose, and the bow of his lips?

He groaned again, rolling over to punch the pillow. He was sleepy and upset and thinking about Enjolras’ lips for too long was doing things to him. Again. And now he had two gluten free pizzas to make which meant he had to go shopping and that his fridge was going to smell like his grandmother’s pizza sauce and a shit ton of fresh meats for about a month.

His phone buzzed and he reached over to look at the screen. Stupid perfect Enjolras with his stupid perfect address. Of course he lived on Shadow Lake Court, it was too perfectly pretentious and poetic. Just the way Grantaire liked his street names. And his men coincidentally.

After a few minutes of glaring at his phone he got up, showered, and somehow managed to make his way to the market completely sober. Shocking truly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do yourself a favor and imagine Grantaire clutching a pillow to his chest and blushing while on the phone with Enjolras, because its painfully cute.


	3. Slightly More Than Paper Cut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras Asks A Lot of Questions and Grantaire Is More Surprised By That Than He Should Be. Also Pizza.

Grantaire came home with his arms weighed down by grocery bags. He did not often cook, but when he did, it could never be said he half assed it. Everything was to be by scratch, straight from his mother’s cookbook written in by generation after generation from his family. Which is why he hardly used them, the cooks in his family did not know the words “convenient” “quick” or “simple”. Everything was elaborate and took far too much time for the everyday (like the salad that called for sculpted vegetables) (it’s a spring salad, the vegetables look like flowers, at one point you dye cucumbers with beet juice, it’s absolutely ridiculous but incredibly delicious not to mention super impressive) but by God it was delicious.

He had rounded out the two balls of pizza dough and was chopping tomatoes for the sauce when his phone rang, he’d been rather aggressively listening to Fall Out Boy so the sudden switch to standard iPhone ringtone startled him and the knife slipped against his knuckle, “Fucking son of a bitch ass hole dick bag motherfucker!” He cursed as he sucked his thumb into his mouth and grabbed his phone, “Hello?” He asked angrily, thumb tucked against the inside of his cheek.

“Uh…Am I calling you at a bad time?” Enjolras’ voice, crystal clear over the throbbing in his thumb and the pounding of his heart.

“No. Well yes, but partly my fault for not paying attention.” He mumbled, pressing the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he wrapped a towel around his thumb, luckily it wasn’t too deep, he knew this because he could feel everything, so all his nerve endings were blissfully intact, unlike the ones on the top of his left forefinger (don’t take the pit of an avocado out with a knife kids).

“Oh. Are you alright?” Enjolras sounded concerned, and it made Grantaire’s chest warm in what was definitely the stupidest lamest thing ever because he was not twelve anymore.

“Yeah, just nicked my thumb with a knife, I’m just putting a band aid on now.” He managed to press the sticky end in a way that meant his thumb was still useful to him, he was quite proud of that. “Now what can I do for you oh Fearless Leader?”

He could practically _hear_ Enjolras roll his eyes, success was his, “I was in the general neighborhood for an interview and it ended early. I was going to go back to my place but Ferre has Courf over and-”

“Say no more.” Grantaire cut him off and moved back to the cutting board to clean his knife, it was getting dull, “I’ll text you my address so you don’t have to find out live precisely how loud Ferre is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Enjolras you don’t want to know, just leave it be.” He sighed and held the phone, “Look I’m going to hang up now and text you the address so I can actually finish these pizzas before tomorrow morning okay?”

“Oh yeah sure, bye.”

“Bye.” He hung up and texted him his address quickly, and moved back to chopping the tomatoes into perfect little chunks (that would then be pureed, just because his grandmother didn’t have a food processor didn’t mean he too had to behave like a savage), and pointedly ignoring that the pounding in his thumb in time with his heart beat had picked up.

He was putting the finishing touches on the sauce when Enjolras knocked on the door, “Its open!” He called, searching frantically for the fresh basil he’d bought. Enjolras walked in with a smile toeing off his shoes (because of course he couldn’t use his hands he just had to be cute about the asshole) and stepping quietly into the kitchen. His smile dropped to a confused frown as he looked at Grantaire, “What are you looking for?”

Grantaire sighed and whirled around again, “Basil leaves. I know I bought them; I had a nice chat with the vendor. And I swear I just saw them!”

Enjolras chuckled and sat down at the travesty that was his kitchen table, “They’re in your hand Grantaire.”

Grantaire blinked at him and then at the small bag in his hand, which indeed held a thing of basil. “Oh. Well. That was dumb.” He flushed and set the bag down and started washing the herbs carefully, didn’t want to tear them too soon.

“It smells incredible in here.” Enjolras said politely from the table, “What is that?”

Grantaire nodded at the over, “Two Granny Smith apples wrapped in bacon and baking at low heat.”

Enjolras wrinkled his nose, “Apples? On pizza?”

He chuckled and started chopping the basil leaves into small unnoticeable pieces, “The bacon is going on the pizza, the apples give them a really good flavor and the sugars caramelize to give it a good crunch too for texture. And the apples themselves make for a delicious breakfast come morning. Now if you’re going to sit here you’re going to help.” He threw the basil in the sauce and reached into his fridge pulling out a large pepperoni sausage from his local butcher, he unwrapped it and handed a knife to Enjolras, “Just cut that up, don’t worry about thickness, just make them round and all will be well. And by all means snack on it while you cut it, that’s far too much for two pizzas.” He went back to his sauce, making sure it was perfectly blended. He moved carefully to Enjolras and handed him the spoon, “Does it need anything?”

Enjolras just blinked at him before taking the spoon and trying it, he shook his head with wide eyes, “No not all! Jesus that’s incredible! I didn’t know you could cook.”

Grantaire grinned and started flattening out the dough and settling them on to circular wire pizza screens for cooking, “You don’t know a lot of things about me Enjolras. I mean hell you forgot where I work.” He formed the crust quickly and with practiced ease, he forced his mother to make this constantly and had gotten quite good at it over time.

Enjolras sighed and kept cutting, surprisingly the man hadn’t stabbed himself yet, “I suppose that’s true.” There was one of those awkward silences again, where the only sounds were that of the knife hitting the cutting board and Grantaire smoothing out sauce. “Tell me.” Enjolras said confidently, so confidently Grantaire had to turn around and look at him, “Tell me what I don’t know.”

At first he just blinked at the other man. He was utterly surprised at the sudden interest in his life, Enjolras spent much more time shouting at Grantaire about the way he chose to live his life in complete drunken apathy than asking about what Grantaire actually did with it.

“Um…I don’t know where to start?” He blushed and moved to the fridge pulling out all the fresh mozzarella he’d bought (well almost all of it, he had saved some for himself naturally, shit was delicious and expensive as hell and by God he was saving some) and unwrapped it before washing his hands and beginning to tear it into pieces (you do not under any circumstances cut mozzarella cheese, it’s a finger food dammit).

“Where’d you learn to cook like this?” Enjolras asked before gracelessly stuffing a piece of pepperoni in his mouth, the way his eyes closed and the happy noise he made at the taste were something Grantaire would save for later. In a shower. When he was very much alone.

He flushed again, realizing he’d been staring at Enjolras instead of speaking, “From my mother and grandparents, and she learned from them and her grandparents as well. My mother’s side is very Italian, and teaching your kids to cook is a tradition. Seriously I’ve got homemade cook books thicker than ‘Suet’s law books.”

Enjolras chuckled, “That’d I’d like to see.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow and reached into a cupboard near the oven and pulled out a massive leather bound tome with pages nearly falling out of it, the sides of the pages moving from paper yellowed with age to a brighter white as recipes were added or recopied from old long worn out pages. He set it in front of Enjolras with a quiet thud, “You were saying?”

Enjolras smiled with wide eyes and looked between the book and Grantaire as the man pulled the apples out of the oven, the bacon was mostly cooked, it’d finish on the pizza. And the apples themselves smelled like heaven.

Enjolras flipped through the book, “Grantaire almost all of this is in Italian.”

Grantaire sighed, “Parlo italiano idiota.”

“You speak Italian? And why did you call me stupid?” Enjolras asked curiously, going back to his task of cutting up pepperoni as Grantaire crumbled bacon into the sauce before layering the cheese over top.

“I called you a dumbass actually, and I did that because you really think my mother would give me a cook book that is ninety-five percent Italian without teaching me how to read it? Not to mention my mother is one of the first in her family to learn to speak English, she and I are both bilingual because her parents didn’t speak a word of English.”

“Are you and your mother close?” Enjolras asked reaching up to grab a piece of cheese, and so long as he made that face again (he did) Grantaire would let him eat whatever he wanted.

“We were.” Grantaire responded, forcing lightness into his voice that seemed to go completely missed by the blond man currently licking his thumb.

“What happened?”

Grantaire sighed and shrugged, “Oh you know. She died.” There was silence then as Grantaire finished layering the cheese on the pizzas.

“God I am so sorry Grantaire.” Was Enjolras’ quiet reply after the few beats of silence.

Grantaire shrugged again and turned to look at him, “Its fine, not like you killed her or anything.” He smiled tightly and tried to change the subject, “At this rate these are never going to get finished.”

He sat down and took the sausage from him and the knife and started cutting quickly, “Take what I’ve got finished and start placing them. Go from the center out in a spiral.” He instructed, tucking his fingers away from the blade, no need to cut himself in front of Enjolras.

The man stood and did as he was told, “Why in a spiral?” He asked, because of course Enjolras could not do what he was bid without questioning it.

Grantaire kept his eyes down, “It means that way every piece will have some sausage on it but no piece will have too much or too little. Cooking is about balance, and Italian cooking is about decadent balance.” He smiled, now his mother’s voice was ringing in his head as he spoke, feeding him a cannoli as legs dangled from the kitchen counter.

“How do you mean?” God he would never get used to Enjolras just talking with him, every question was making his pulse race.

Grantaire finished cutting and placed the pepperonis on the other pizza before waving Enjolras to the side and setting the pizzas in the oven. “Well we’ve got about ten minutes before these are out of the oven before its time to go, so I suppose I can show you. Sit down please.”

Enjolras did and Grantaire pulled an ice cream scoop out of the drawer of utensils and vanilla bean ice cream out of the freezer, along with some caramel sauce and salted caramel Baileys. He scooped the center out of one of the apples from earlier, setting it aside before taking the caramel sauce in one hand and the apple in the other, drizzling caramel along the inside of the apple. He set the caramel sauce down and reached for the Baileys, pressing his thumb against the opening of the bottle and pouring a small amount along the inside of the apple, turning the fruit in his hand. Quickly he scooped a decently sized ball of ice cream into the center of the apple and then drizzled a little more caramel and Baileys on top. He put the ingredients away, set the apple on a plate and two spoons and sat across from Enjolras. “Don’t tell everyone else or I’m going to have to make this all the time and between the apples, the Baileys, and the bacon I’ll go flat broke in a week.” He said seriously, pointing his spoon at Enjolras’ nose, “Now that that’s out of the way, take the first bite so we can eat it before it melts.”

Enjolras grinned like he was a child and dug in with his spoon, Grantaire appreciated the way he made sure to get some of the apple too. The noise Enjolras made was pure sin, his eyes sliding shut again as he leaned into his chair. Suddenly Grantaire became very grateful for the table in front of him as Enjolras licked his lips, the sudden image of Grantaire doing that for him was now forever implanted in his brain. His lips would taste like caramel and vanilla with just a hint of salt and alcohol and the smokiness of the bacon that had been wrapped around it, and of course he’d taste like Enjolras, and while he wasn’t sure what that taste would be, he knew it’d be delectable.

“Good?” Grantaire asked, and then cleared his throat when he heard the low rasp of his own voice, god willing Enjolras didn’t notice.

The blond man nodded emphatically, “God yes. This is an Italian thing?”

Grantaire grinned and shrugged before swallowing his own spoonful, he did his best not to moan because now he knew what Enjolras’ mouth would taste like, but he’d forgot to account for temperature difference between the warmth of his mouth and the chill of the ice cream. “It was my mom’s thing. And she’s Italian, so I suppose yes it’s an Italian thing. Well and an Irish and a my thing too because the Bailey’s is decidedly not Italian nor my mother’s touch.”

Enjolras chuckled and Grantaire grinned as a companionable silence fell over the two, only interrupted by happy sighs, happy sounds, and the sounds of spoons scraping against the inside of the apple. But the time the pizzas were done the apple had been cut in half and the both of them were savoring the sweet, smoky, salty crunch of the apple, all the flavors having seeped into the fruit.

Quickly Grantaire threw (or more like carefully and delicately placed with all the tenderness of a mother with their newborn child) the pizzas into two cardboard boxes and stacked them on top of each other before lacing up his boots, throwing on a hoodie and grabbing a six pack of Angry Orchard, “Mind grabbing the other one?” Grantaire tipped his head to the other box. Enjolras frowned but did so.

“Do you really want to bring these?” Enjolras asked as the pair stepped out the door.

Grantaire just rolled his eyes, “Yes, I do. It’s beer which goes well with pizza, and it tastes like apples, but its more crisp than that Redd’s shit. That apple flavor in the beer will pick up the flavor of the apple in the bacon, it’ll taste rounder. And its alcohol and in case you missed it, I really like alcohol.”

“But why?” God with all the questions, curiosity would be Enjolras’ end if pride didn’t do him in first.

“Because it tastes good, lets me relax, helps me sleep, and it actually makes my brain be quiet for once. And you weren’t exactly complaining when I poured Baileys on our ice cream so shut up Enjolras.”

And of course because Enjolras was Enjolras, he grumbled his way down the stairs to Grantaire’s car. Muttering about stupidity and harm and illness all the way. Honestly it made Grantaire smile and the knot in his stomach loosen. The oddness of the day with all the friendliness and attention had made him unexpectedly nervous. He didn’t know how to do polite, kind, gentle Enjolras. He knew how to handle (and loved handling) angry, passionate, loud, in-your-face-and-not-giving-a-damn Enjolras. This was more his speed.

“Grumble all you want mon Ange but I’m still drinking tonight. But because Courf, Bossuet, and Bahorel will be there, I most certainly won’t be drinking all of it.”

They loaded the food in his car, tucking the pizza boxes in between the beers and miscellany in his trunk to keep them from sliding too much. “Shit I forgot my things. Did you drive over here?”

Enjolras shook his head, “Took the bus and then walked.”

Grantaire nodded and handed him his car keys, “Here you go ahead and turn on the car and get comfy, I’ll go grab my bag.”

Grantaire ran back upstairs and grabbed a backpack filled to bursting. He’d had a hard time deciding what he would need. Clothes were obvious, but what about pajamas? He did not like sleeping in jeans so sweat pants were a must but which pair, the black pair that was loose everywhere except his ass showing it off in a truly ridiculous manner? Or the gray pair that weren’t quite so clingy but decidedly more comfortable? Naturally he brought both. Clothes for the next day but what? Tight jeans or loose jeans, t-shirt or Henley, sweatshirt or jean jacket? He’d mulled over those choices for hours that morning. He’d ended up bringing enough clothes for four days instead of two but with Enjolras around he decided he needed to look his best. He caught a quick glimpse of himself in the mirror and realized he’d forgotten a very important article of clothing, his beanie. The heat from the kitchen had made his hair frizz and stick out in odd directions, his unruly curls undecided in their choice to loosen or tighten. He pulled on his nearest one, a deep green, and clambered back down to his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for putting up with these two assholes and all your support! It brings a smile to this bitter face of mine when I see all the kudos you fabulous people have left.
> 
> But as all fanfic writers must state; please leave all the comments. Leave scathing criticism, seriously anything. I just want a read as to where you guys are at with this story, I want to know what you like what you don't all that jazz. That way I can give you more good stuff and less bad stuff.
> 
> Unless you think this whole thing is bad in which case my friend, you're fucked.
> 
> (also this chapter, the last chapter, and the one that will follow were all originally part of one chapter that was roughly 14 pages long, I'm breaking it up so its easier to read, but if the flow seems weird that's why)
> 
> (also also; I don't speak Italian, so if the one sentence in Italian is wrong, my bad and please let me know so I can go fix it)


	4. *~Feelings~*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire Drives, Feelings Are Shared, Jehan Is In All Likelihood a Merperson

Grantaire hopped in, tossing his bag in the backseat and grinned at Enjolras nervously, “Off to Neverland?” He asked, shifting the car into reverse and backing up slowly.

Enjolras shook his head with a wry grin, “Neverland?”

Grantaire just rolled his eyes, “Darling your apartment is going to be filled to the brim with a bunch of loud, queer college kids. The only thing missing are the mermaids, and frankly if I said that in front of Jehan I fear they’d slap me straight across the face, because if anyone were a merperson it’d be Jehan.”

Enjolras laughed and Grantaire’s chest tightened in response, “Yes but when you got slapped you’d deserve it at that point.”

He straightened out the car and took off, “Indeed I would. Now, you’re in the passenger seat and as I’m going to your apartment, you get to be navigator. And with such responsibility and power, comes the reward of music selection. So long as it’s not country I won’t have to kick you out of the car, that’s the one rule.”

Enjolras grinned and pulled out his phone plugging it in to the little cord and then scrolling through music quickly, “Well there go all my Taylor Swift plans.”

Grantaire snorted, “Please, Taylor Swift is so not country anymore.”

“So you do listen to Taylor Swift!”

Grantaire let his eyes waver from the road to look at Enjolras’ exuberant smile, “Sometimes you just gotta shake off the haters.” He shrugged focusing back on the road, the image of that bright smile still imprinted in his mind.

Enjolras started playing Bastille but he kept the volume low. “Why don’t we talk like this more often?” He asked suddenly, staring straight ahead.

Grantaire stiffened and shrugged, tightening his grip on the steering wheel, “I mean, you kind of hate me. Or at least that was my impression.” He heard Enjolras shift toward him but he couldn’t look, it was a red light and he could not make himself turn his head to catch Enjolras’ eye. No matter what emotion he saw there it would cut too deep, he’d just as soon not see it.

“I don’t—I’ve never hated you Grantaire.” His voice was the one Grantaire had grown to recognize, fierce with its passion, deep and rumbling. Quieter than when he’d berate him at meeting but every bit as commanding.

“Well, you do a terrible job of showing your favor then.” Grantaire sighed and tapped the steering wheel, “I mean, how the hell was I supposed to garner any other impression with the way you berate me? You tell me constantly how I wrong I am, how much you hate that I’m a drunk, that my views on the world are useless, that doesn’t exactly spell out friendship Enjolras.”

There was silence as Enjolras tried to frame his argument, picking his words apart syllable by syllable to make sure they were just right, “Grantaire if I truly hated you I wouldn’t say a word to you. I don’t…I don’t waste time with things or with people I dislike. I don’t drink because I don’t like it, I don’t spend my time with conservatives because I don’t like them. I care about you very much, I apologize if I’ve done a poor job in showing that.”

Grantaire pulled the car over out of traffic and stopped it, ripping the keys from the ignition and turning to face Enjolras, “I’m sorry I’m just…That was a lot of information in thirty seconds I need to process.” He blinked for a few seconds and then dragged his hands over his face, “So not only have you just apologized to me, which is staggering in its own right, you’re telling me you care about me.”

“A lot.” Enjolras added on with a small smile, “I care about you a lot, just to make sure you’ve got all the information.”

Grantaire reached out and shoved Enjolras’ shoulder, “Now is not the time for smirks I am having an existential crisis and there are pizzas in the trunk getting cold and mozzarella does not reheat that well.” He tugged gently at a curl that had escaped from under his beanie.

“Honestly Grantaire I thought you hated me.” Enjolras spoke calmly, as though this wasn’t a world changing conversation they were having, “You shout at me or ignore me, you drink at meetings, you constantly tell me what I’m doing is useless and…and now I’m starting to understand how you got the impression I hated you.” He gave a small lopsided smile and ducked his head, the cuteness of the action was infuriating.

Grantaire let his head drop forward against the steering wheel, “You are impossible. Absolutely impossible.” He straightened up and started the car again, “Can’t let the pizzas get cold.” He mumbled, pulling back on to the road as his mind whirred trying to understand things that he absolutely could not. Enjolras having kind feelings for him was staggering, at most he figured Enjolras put up with him but certainly no more than a begrudging peace was all they had between them. But this day had thrown that theory off a cliff and into an ocean never to be seen again and Grantaire had to find his footing, something he was not very good at doing to say the least.

Slowly his brain came back to him, he could find grounding with Courfeyrac around and he could call Éponine once he got there, maybe drag her over if the hosts would permit it. As he calmed down and his grip on the steering wheel loosened and his head stopped pounding and he could hear the music and immediately he burst into laughter.

Enjolras shifted to look at Grantaire with confusion plastered to his face, “Why are you laughing?”

Grantaire managed to calm down his laughter into small chuckles, “The song is all.”

Enjolras furrowed his brows, “Pompeii? Why is that making you laugh it was a horrific event and-and well I like this song actually.”

Grantaire grinned, “Just the whole, ‘how am I gonna be an optimist about this?’ line, it was well timed for what I was thinking.”

“Turn left here and then right at that weird tree-What were you thinking?”

“Oh Mon Ange, that is for another day. I think we’ve had enough feelings sharing for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and kudos! They are very much appreciated. I hope you're all enjoying the story so far, and I promise the next chapter is slumber party shenanigans.


	5. Rum and Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings Are Dealt With, Grantaire Smokes, Joly is Precious But There's No Surprise With That Last Point Is There?

They stepped into the apartment together, Enjolras with a six pack in one hand keys in the other, and Grantaire with two boxes of pizza, a six pack, and his overly stuff backpack all but sending him to the floor with its weight.

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow but before he could comment Combeferre swooped in (Grantaire made a quick prayer thanking whatever deity sent Combeferre to protect his dignity), “There you are you’ve been gone all day!” He said as he walked over to Enjolras, bare feet padding quietly across the hard wood floor, “I’m so glad you could make it Grantaire, it hasn’t been right without you at these things an—oh my god what smells so good?” He’d stopped mid-sentence, mid-sentence of a sentence that implied he’d wanted Grantaire at these meetings before but it wasn’t like Combeferre to not invite someone if he wanted them there.

“Oh, um, I made pizzas. One for Courf and Bahorel because they’re twelve, and one for the adults who have manners. Both are gluten free so that way our darling Joly may indulge for the evening.” He spoke with a cheery voice but that sentence was nagging at him, pulling at the back of his mind. He turned to Enjolras to see if there was any guidance there, and there was, but not in the manner he hoped. Enjolras’ face was bright red. Redder than his favorite coat, which was saying something because that thing was fucking obnoxious. And that’s when he realized, Ferre wasn’t the one who didn’t want him, nor Courfeyrac, or any of their other friends. It was Enjolras. Enjolras who had probably been forced by the all to impressive glare and disappointed dad voice of Combeferre to invite him.

Once again Grantaire was unwanted by his Apollo.

He set down his pizzas and beer quickly, took off his shoes and tossed his bag into a corner. He meandered his way to Courfeyrac while Enjolras and Combeferre chatted quietly near the kitchen area. He smiled tightly at the man and then bent down to clutch at his shoulder, “If you care for me at all you will share that bottle of rum I got you for your birthday last month with me right now because that is the only way I’m going to get through this.” His voice was low and serious despite the broad smile plastered to his face.

“Oh a lovers quarrel I see?” Courfeyrac teased as he stood, “I will share on one condition, you share with me two things: one, the reason you are requesting said alcohol; and two, what you’ve been doing with Enjolras all day because you two definitely arrived together and he’s been gone all day, thank you for that by  the way, so something must’ve happened.”

Grantaire sighed and pinched his nose, “Enjolras helped me make pizza, we had a perfectly kind and normal day with each other which is incredibly weird I know. And that’s part of the reason I need the alcohol, the other would be the same man who asked me why we aren’t close and why I speak Italian, is the one who didn’t want me here and while I did bring beer, I’m going to need to drink this crippling self-doubt into something slightly more tolerable, like a hangover.”

Courfeyrac cooed and held Grantaire’s face in both hands, “Oh you’re such a fucking idiot my love.” He pressed a quick kiss to Grantaire’s forehead and stood out of his chair and started towards the kitchen with an arm over the shorter man’s shoulders, “Someday you’ll both get your heads out of your asses at the same time and if you do it before Christmas Ferre owes me twenty dollars and a blow job.”

Grantaire scoffed and shoved Courf’s side, “Ew gross, that’s not an image I need Courf.”

“Why would you rather be blowing me?” He grinned and opened a cupboard pulling out a bottle of Malibu and two glasses.

Grantaire snorted and hopped up on their counter, narrowly avoiding knocking his pizzas to the ground, “God no. You’re gross.”

“Oh hush you love me.” Courf poured the rum into the glasses quickly and then added coke, “One rum and coke for the disgruntled, love struck alcoholic.” He pressed the glass into Grantaire’s hand and looked at him suddenly serious, “Only one rum and coke for tonight, deal?”

Grantaire nodded and took a slow sip, “I just need to not burst into tears or like have a panic attack and leave. This prevents that, the beer will help.”

“Switching alcohols is not good for you mate.”

“And neither is drinking or loving someone who doesn’t love you, but I do both of those anyway. And quite well might I add.” He gave Courf a tight lipped smile as Ferre wandered into the kitchen, Joly at his side. “Ah my darling Jolly Joly! I made you gluten free pizza so you may indulge to your heart’s content.” He turned quickly to Courfeyrac, “The bottom box is for you and Bahorel only, meaning you two get to split one large pizza, the rest of us humans are sharing the other box you two don’t get any of that one.”

Joly grinned as he stepped into the kitchen, washing his hands before moving towards the pizzas, “You’re brilliant and I’m starving. Where’d you get everything to make it?”

Courfeyrac had all but ripped the top off of his box, practically inhaling a slice, “It doesn’t fucking matter this is incredible.” He mumbled with his mouth full of pizza. He swallowed hard and looked at Combeferre wide eyed, “I love you very much gorgeous but I may have to leave you, I think that’s the least Grantaire deserves for this incredible pizza.”

“If you leave Combeferre for my pizza, I will never make it again.”

“Not to mention I’ll be furious with you. Leaving me for pizza? Awfully rude of you.” Combeferre intoned with a small grin, kissing Courf on the cheek as he reached for a glass.

“Anyhow Joly, I got it all at a local farmer’s market. Except for the gluten free flour, I got that at the Whole Foods. But the rest of it I do know precisely where it came from and I can assure you that not only is it delicious, it’s all humane and organic. Only the best for my darling dears.”

There was raucous laughter from the entry way, a mix of Bossuet’s deep guffaws and Muischetta’s lilted chuckles. Joly’s answering grin made even Grantaire smile, those three were so helplessly in love with each other is managed to not only make Grantaire feel somewhat nauseated but also wildly jealous.

“Don’t let ‘Suet or Chetta hear you calling me your darling, they may just hit you in a fit of jealousy.” Joly managed despite his blush as he pulled a piece of pizza neatly on to a plate, everything he did had an air of practiced grace, even eating something like pizza, the man was delicate in a way that even ballerinas weren’t.

The alcohol was making Grantaire’s chest feel warm in that pleasant way that only alcohol could, seeping down his chest and into his arms and fingers, “Then we may very well fight over you then, lord knows the three of you are the luckiest people this universe will ever see with the way you’ve found each other.” Grantaire hopped off the counter and grabbed his own piece of pizza, unceremoniously shoving it in his mouth, “I’ll never understand how you all got two people when I haven’t even had one, it isn’t fair at all really.”

Combeferre clucked his tongue from his position at Courfeyrac’s side, “You’ll find someone Grantaire, you’re too good a soul not to. And who knows maybe you’ll find three someone’s and beat us all out. Courfeyrac, please eat slower you’re going to get sick, yes I know its good sweetheart but so is breathing.” He rolled his eyes as his boyfriend dutifully ate slower at his asking (Joly visibly relaxed as he did), “It’s great you could finally make it out to see us for this, Grantaire.”

There was that phrasing again, nagging at the back of his mind, “Finally? What do you mean?”

Combeferre was now wearing the same puzzled expression as Grantaire, “You know, you’ve been working at the museum on Friday nights.” Everyone seemed to nod along, all on the same page of Grantaire’s non-existent Friday work schedule.

That was precisely when Enjolras walked in the room, his face paling the minute his mind processed what had been said, he opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

Grantaire’s grip on his drink tightened and he suddenly felt overwhelmingly nauseated. Enjolras had lied. Enjolras never lied, he hated lying, he’d never lied a day in his life, he’d sooner tell the truth than lie even if it meant his life, and he’d never lie to Combeferre. But the point remained he did, he lied about Grantaire. He hadn’t just told Ferre he didn’t want Grantaire there, he’d made it a point to make sure that he would never come.

Fucking shit fuck goddamn.

Grantaire’s world was spinning and he wasn’t even buzzed. He managed a tight smile once he recognized the too long silence. “Oh you know, they work interns like dogs over there.” Everyone laughed. Fuck. “If you’ll excuse me I’m gonna go get some air, starting to feel warm, I’ll uh, I’ll be back up in a minute.” He set his glass down and his half eaten piece of pizza and started for the door, shoving his shoulder against Enjolras’ chest on his way out because he could at least do that. He grabbed his bag, half slid on his shoes, and all but sprinted out the door and down the stairs. Once outside he rounded the corner quickly, away from the entrance leading to the apartment so no one else would see him on their way in.

Once in a secluded corner he dug into the front pocket of his backpack with shaking hands, “Shit fuck, fucking….dick, asshole, fuckface.” His voice was low but angry and he finally managed to pull out a box of cigarettes and a lighter, pulling one out with a practiced ease and lighting it quickly.

Grantaire did not smoke often, hardly a pack a month. Just enough to not want to quit but not enough anyone should be all that worried, he almost never smelled of cigarette smoke and his apartment and clothes never did. He only smoked when he felt like he couldn’t breathe on his own anymore, there was something reassuring in seeing the smoke his escape his lips, at least then he knew his lungs were working.

He collapsed against the wall behind him, back pressed against cool cement as he slid down, legs akimbo, cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers.

Enjolras would rather lie to his best friends than invite him to a fucking party. Grantaire snorted and took another drag. What a pal. And to think today might’ve meant something, anything to either of them?  It meant nothing and he should’ve known that. Or at least it felt like he should’ve known that.

Suddenly all he could hear was Enjolras’ voice in the car, _“A lot. I care about you a lot, just to make sure you’ve got all the information.”_ Now though it was muffled by this new information, garbled through a filter of Grantaire reminding himself that it was impossible for someone like Enjolras to care about some like him.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the metal steps, rushing down to him quickly. He caught a glimpse of red and gold out of the corner of his eye. Naturally.

“You smoke?” That was the first thing Enjolras said the moment he spotted Grantaire, sprawled against the ground a few feet away.

“Hello to you too Enjolras, how are you this fine evening? Lies going well, hope so.” Grantaire’s voice was biting and sarcastic, he hoped it hurt, he hoped he could use his words like daggers the same way Enjolras could, “Must’ve been really hard on you, lying to your best friends like that. Honestly I’m less pissed that you lied about me and more pissed you lied to Ferre, he didn’t fucking deserve that.” He turned his head to look at him, “If you didn’t want me around that’s all you had to say, I wouldn’t have come, I can cover my own absences just fine thanks.”

Enjolras just crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the metal stairs. “I don’t suppose saying I’m sorry would help now would it?”

Grantaire snorted, “Not particularly no. I mean honestly I should’ve known better.” He took a long drag, “Though that whole, ‘I really care about you’ bit in the car? That lie I really could’ve done without.”

Enjolras straightened, “That wasn’t a lie!”

“Oh, well that really clears things up! Suddenly it’s getting very hard to tell with you.” He snarled, putting out his cigarette on the ground next to him. “Because all you do is act cold and harsh to me from minute fucking one, then suddenly you have this—This vested interest in me and my life and my-my mother?!” He shook his head and stood up, “And then! Then I find out you have been lying to the people you trust the most for _months_. But no you must really care about me Enjolras! That makes complete fucking sense!”

Enjolras ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily, “I do care about you, I swear!”

“Then why the hell would you lie to Ferre about me working!? If you care so much than why don’t you want me around?” There was silence then.

After a beat Grantaire yanked his bag off the ground and pulled it over his shoulder, “That’s what I thought, just tell everyone I had a headache or something, I won’t bother you again.” He kept his eyes down, because like hell he was about to let Enjolras see him cry, and pushed past the blond with all the anger he could muster.

As he stepped past him, he heard Enjolras make this frustrated, pathetic little groan, and then suddenly there was a hand on his bicep, gripping him like an iron bar and spinning him around and then—

Then silence like Grantaire had never known.

His whole mind went blank, his body only dimly aware of the fact that he dropped his bag on the ground, because what was left of his brain was focused on the way Enjolras’ lips were pushing insistently against his own, and how his fingers curled over his biceps like he was a life line and Enjolras was a dying man. But Grantaire was drowning, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, he was lost.

Suddenly Enjolras pulled away and the world came rushing back to him like he’d been slapped, but that hand was still on his arm.

Grantaire leaned towards him, eyes still shut, chasing after him. He managed to open his eyes and he took a ragged breath in, “What. The. Fuck.” He stuttered out slowly, still trying to remember how to tell his lungs to function. If he had feeling in his hands he’d have been reaching for a cigarette.

“You have no fucking idea how long I have wanted to do that.” Enjolras breathed out heavily, still holding Grantaire, grounding him there. “For months, Grantaire, since these stupid movie marathons have started because Combeferre said I should invite you and I said no, because you’re loud and you disagree, and you somehow manage to be passionately apathetic and you infuriate me to no end.” His voice was all fire, “And he and I got in this fight, which only pissed me off more because we were fighting about _you_ of all things!” He shook his head quickly.

“Enjolras you are really not selling me on the whole kissing thing. Right now I want to punch you in the goddamned mouth.” His voice was deadpanned, because honestly what the fuck?

“Yes well, as per usual, I’m not finished yet so just…just listen for once okay?” Enjolras took a deep breath and released Grantaire’s arm (and Grantaire would never admit to it, but he definitely whimpered). “We were fighting, loudly might I add, and Combeferre pointed out to me that you and I are opposite sides of the same stupid coin. And that the only reason I got so pissed it because all I see is what you could be and what I can’t be, and that I couldn’t hate you because I care too goddamned much about you to ever tell you to leave.” He paused and struggled to find the words, “I would be lost if you left.”

Grantaire just blinked at him, “I can’t feel my hands.” Was the only thing he could manage to say, “Or my face I think? I might—I think I’m actually going into shock.” He muttered and there Enjolras was again, holding him up literally by the shoulders.

“One, that’s not funny. And two, that’s really not funny.”

Grantaire grinned a little madly, “You know I’m joking?”

Enjolras shrugged, “I’m learning.”

Grantaire wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him hard, pushing him back against the wall, sighing against his mouth as Enjolras slid his hands over his hips and leaned against the taller man’s chest. “Wait, wait, hold on. You still haven’t told me why you lied.”

Enjolras flushed and pressed his forehead against Grantaire’s, “Because I was convinced you hated me and would laugh right in my face if I asked you to come over. Much less on a date. But Ferre had made me promise to ask you. So I lied. Because I don’t know how to handle scared.”

That was fair. Grantaire didn’t do scared well either, he just drank a lot instead.

“Me either. Which is why I’m going to stop thinking now.” And they kissed, and Grantaire’s mind was silent and empty, and the whole world stepped back just for them as they kissed out in the cold under metal stairs against a cement wall. Grantaire still smelled like smoke, and Enjolras smelled like coffee and tasted like everything Grantaire craved. Car doors slammed shut, laughter echoed along the walls and up the stairs, the world was still spinning.

But no one could have convinced either man of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M WRITING ANYMORE THESE TWO IDIOTS ARE JUST DUMB AND I LOVE THEM
> 
> Okay so to those of you who have been thinking, "Enj is like weirdly emotionally available rn what the hell?" I am one of you, and I am the one writing this. But I just kinda write the dialogue I hear in my head and see what I can do with that when I go edit it. And I got this.
> 
> And this image of Ferre and Enj arguing loudly while Courf sat on the floor with a bowl of popcorn. But in all seriousness, Ferre was definitely the one to say, "Enjolras you're being an asshole to Grantaire and I think you need to look at your reasoning here because I know you and I know this is /not/ how you deal with people you hate. So either R is a special case, or there's something else going on here." And then Enj shouted some more about how R was /not/ a special case, and there was /not/ something else going on he just didn't like Grantaire.
> 
> But then he took a shower. And in said shower he thought about things and suddenly Courfeyrac heard him go, "FUCK!" Because suddenly Enjolras realized, he had a paper cut heart. Which is to say there were feelings he had been ignoring and now he had to do something with them.
> 
> And that's why that's a thing.


	6. Laughter and Marie Antoinette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac is an Ass, Jehan is a Darling, and Muischetta is Perfect.
> 
> No One is Surprised by Any of This.

Somehow as the minutes passed, Grantaire’s back ended up pressed against the wall and his fingers were tangled in Enjolras’ hair as the blond kissed and bit down his neck like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Part of his brain was dimly aware of their names being called, but the words echoed strangely off the metal of the steps and the solid cement of the walls, ringing in a muffled way that made the words unimportant and intangible. So he let Enjolras have his beautifully wicked way with him (mostly because he couldn’t think, partially because he knew if he started to think he’d panic). Or Grantaire tried to but Enjolras pulled his head away far too quickly, the cold air hitting his skin and making him shiver and groan as he pulled him back.

“Oh man! Oh Ferre you owe me a blow job!” Suddenly Courfeyrac’s head appeared behind Enjolras’ head, “I won you ass!” He was calling up the stairs as both Enjolras and Grantaire blushed furiously.

Grantaire dropped his forehead against Enjolras’ shoulder, “I know he’s like your best friend and he’s dating your other best friend, but can I kill him?”

Enjolras, still a brilliant shade of crimson at this point, smiled but shook his head, “I’d say yes but I think Combeferre would be insufferable.”

“Awwe you don’t want me dead!” Courfeyrac teased as Combeferre rounded the corner, “Besides he won’t let you kill me.”

Combeferre ignored his boyfriend and instead stormed towards Enjolras and Grantaire, causing the two to part out of terror, “You complete and utter assholes! I thought you were sick, or dead, or beating the shit out of each other!”

“Well you’re not far off love, look at R’s neck!”

“Not the time Courfeyrac!” Combeferre hollered as he glowered at the pair in front of him, “Do you have any idea how long you’ve been out here?”

Grantaire shifted uncomfortably, looking somewhere in the vicinity of Ferre’s kneecaps, “A long time?”

“Almost an hour!” He shouted, Enjolras and Grantaire flinched in response.

“We’re very sorry Combeferre, we just got…caught up.”

“Yeah you did.” Courfeyrac teased with a quiet chuckle stepping forward to loop his arms low around Combeferre’s waist, “Darling, lay off them. You and I have been waiting for this for almost a year and a half now, they’re safe and everyone’s upstairs. Let them have this.”

The air deflated out of Combeferre like a popped balloon, “Yes I suppose you’re right.” He gave the two in front of him a withering look, “Upstairs, five minutes. Neither of us will say a word if you don’t want us to.”

Enjolras nodded quickly and Combeferre and Courfeyrac left, the latter nibbling at his boyfriend’s neck and muttering lowly about something Grantaire truly did not want to know about.

Enjolras brushed his arm against Grantaire’s, letting the backs of their hands touch, a silent question.

Grantaire, in turn, slid his hand into Enjolras’, their fingers intertwining like they were supposed to be that way all along.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow, Grantaire nodded, Enjolras grinned. They started up the stairs.

The door opened to a round of loud, one manned applause from Courfeyrac. A pillow was thrown from the other side of the room. The quiet snickers indicated Jehan as the perpetrator but they would never confess.

Everyone else was calm and kind in their greetings. While Enjolras and Grantaire had been otherwise occupied Jehan, Bahorel, Feuilly, and Marius had made their way into the apartment.

Enjolras flushed, Grantaire squeezed his hand, and Bahorel wolf whistled. Pretty standard reactions. And then Muischetta in all her glory raised an eyebrow and tipped her head to the side from her place in an overstuffed chair, draped across Bossuet’s lap, “I’d offer you concealer to hide that hickey but due to the fact you’re nigh on translucent compared to me, I think you’re just fucked.” Joly reached out from where he stood and tugged on a braid, Chetta simply purred, “Darling not while people are around.” Joly flushed and Bossuet pretended not to by hiding his face against her shoulder.

“Honestly Chetta the fact we never got together astounds me.” Courfeyrac drawled from his seat on the ground, Combeferre sat above him, running his fingers absently through the other man’s hair.

“It may have had something to do with the fact that when I walked in, you forgot how to talk.” Muischetta teased, reaching behind her head to touch Joly’s hip and bring him around in front of her and tugging him on to her lap.

“Hmph, darlings, you know I love you both but I am one man please don’t do this to me.” Bossuet huffed from under the both of them. Joly pouted, “Five minutes then.” He conceded.

“Anyhow,” Courfeyrac continued, “you can’t honestly blame me can you? It was summer and you were wearing those red shorts and that white top thing and you had one those heels, your legs are already really long and gorgeous, but damn. The reason I couldn’t talk was because my jaw had gone through the floor, and then literally through the earth’s core to the other side of the world.”

Muischetta laughed and Joly curled into her, “Your hair was still purple then.”

The world had returned to normal and Enjolras and Grantaire managed to find a spot on an old faded green couch that according to Enjolras was normally shoved in his room except when everyone else was over. Jehan sat cross legged at one end and Grantaire sat between the two.

They chatted and passed beers and food around the room for a good hour (the pizza had long since been demolished) and eventually Grantaire ended sprawled along the couch, his head in Enjolras’ lap and his legs on Jehan’s lap. Marius and Feuilly were on the floor below them, showing each other behind the scene articles with facts from old movies and muttering about apertures and angles and lighting, occasionally causing the two of them to collapse in a fit of giggles.

“Aren’t we supposed to watch a movie?” Grantaire asked, his voice carrying over the chatter.

“Well you see R, we had a schedule, but due to your impromptu make out session with Enjolras, we’re off. So we have to start later.” Courfeyrac intoned, now curled around Ferre on the other couch.

Grantaire blushed, “It wasn’t—We weren’t—”

“It was. We did.” Enjolras sighed from above him, “I’d try and say it wasn’t too, but you haven’t seen your neck.”

Grantaire pressed a hand to his neck, “It can’t be that bad, they kinda interrupted the whole thing.”

“Oh Grantaire it is absolutely that bad.” Jehan said calmly from his end of the couch and patted the other man’s shin. “Its…sizeable to say the least.”

“Bigger than that one Ferre had last month?”

Courf snickered and then Combeferre hit him over the head with a pillow.

“Oh yeah.” Enjolras intoned, rubbing Grantaire’s shoulders, “I got carried away.”

“So you ate me?!” Grantaire shouted, swatting at Enjolras’ leg, “I mean Christ Enjolras, I have more than one place on my neck!”

“And speaking of necks!” Feuilly shouted from the floor, “Aren’t we marathoning historical fictions? Can you put Marie Antoinette in now? Please for the love of god before I throw up?”

There was much laughter, the movie started, the lights went out.

Grantaire’s brain stayed quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks bunches for reading! There will be no updates this weekend as the next chapter needs to be ya know, written. I've hit a bit of a block so hopefully taking a day off will get my brain back in gear and I'll be back Monday with an update. Updates after that maybe every other day or every day or wildly varied as I don't know what I'm doing with my life.
> 
> Thank you for reading, please continue to comment, tell your friends and drink some water.


	7. The King's Speech and Wandering Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire Sleeps, Grantaire Wakes, Grantaire Kisses, Enjolras Touches, Colin Firth is Really Hot.

Grantaire’s mind was so quiet that he fell asleep before the movie was even half way through. This had something to do with the way Enjolras’ fingers were combing through his hair, his beanie lost somewhere on the floor.

He awoke to Courfeyrac’s boisterous announcement that there would be a fifteen minute break for food, drink, and bathroom breaks. And stretching. And, “Me taking my very attractive boyfriend into his bedroom for a brief reprieve.” This was met with much laughter and Combeferre swatting the back of his boyfriend’s head.

Jehan stood up, patting Grantaire’s legs as he set them on the couch while Grantaire stretched, reaching his arms up and gracelessly pulling Enjolras down to kiss him, because now he could and he intended to do it as frequently as he could manage.

“Hello there sleepy head.” Enjolras teased as he pulled his head away, allowing Grantaire to sit up.

“Mmm, you have a very comfy lap. I did not anticipate you to be cuddly, Apollo.” Grantaire yawned and sat up, rolling his head in a loose circle.

Enjolras pulled him into his lap and settled his chin on R’s shoulder, “Normally I’m not, honestly I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I think it may be you.” He curled his arms (which were really muscly and now Grantaire knew that as a fact) around Grantaire’s waist and pulled the man against his chest.

Grantaire chuckled and set his arms on top of the blonde’s, “I would like to believe it was just me but I think someone had something to drink.” He teased, tipping his head back to press a quick kiss to Enjolras’ jaw.

Enjolras flushed and turned his face into Grantaire’s neck, “I might have finished off your beer for you. And mine.”

Grantaire squeezed Enjolras’ hand, “Apollo mine was basically full!” He paused, “Wait your drunk off of two beers?”

“And you.” Enjolras sighed curling into Grantaire and running his hands over his sides, “Mostly you. Cause I have permission to do this now.” He kissed the back of Grantaire’s neck and grinned against his skin as he shivered, “And that’s intoxicating.”

Grantaire was stock still in Enjolras’ lap, breathe caught in his throat as he tried to regain what little composure he could, “Dear god you will be the death of me.” He exhaled heavily and grinned and Enjolras’ deep chuckle, rumbling in his chest.

“I should certainly hope not. I’ve got plans for you.”

That caught Grantaire’s attention and he turned his head to meet Enjolras’ eyes, “I don’t know if I’m scared or really excited to hear you say that.”

Enjolras grinned and bent his head to kiss him, “Both is good.”

At that exact moment Combeferre and Courfeyrac stepped back in, though it was shockingly clear nothing crazy happened in the bedroom, they were now both in pajamas and neither had ruffled hair or red lips or dazed blissful expressions. They just seemed the way they always seemed, ungodly in love and almost angry at each other about it. They’d give each other shy smiles with soft eyes and then Ferre would reach out and smack Courfeyrac gently upside the head and call him an idiot in a way that meant, “I love you” and Courf would make some lewd joke and tug at Ferre’s hair to say, “I love you too.”

But now, as opposed to feeling nauseated and jealously aggravated, now he just felt nauseated by it. And perhaps a little hopeful.

Slowly everyone filtered into the room and retook their seats. With a few adjustments, only one was surprising. As opposed to the couch being taken up by just Grantaire, Enjolras, and Jehan, Bahorel was added into the mix. One gangly arm looped over Jehan’s shoulder, tucking his chin on top of their head. Grantaire raised an eyebrow; Jehan just smiled in a serene way that said they were the cat who had gotten the cream, but with far less effort than any cat had ever exerted. (in all likelihood Jehan had simply extended a hand, and before Bahorel could blink he’d been wrapped around Jehan’s little finger, the man seemed content with his fate)

“I vote King’s Speech next!” Feuilly called from his place on the floor, Marius and he had long since decided the floor was not very comfortable and had become a tangle of limbs, this was of course after Marius had received the blessing to do so from Cossette who was sick at home (she may have texted something that went like this, “Marius, darling, I love you, but if you honestly think I’d be upset by you cuddling with Feuilly you’re wrong. On top of the fact I know you’re just friends and I wouldn’t care anyway, Feuilly hit asexual and kept going, its fine, send him my love.”) (No one was quite sure how or when it had happened but Feuilly and Cosette had bonded over something, and they now had the other’s implicit trust)

Marius seconded his vote and Grantaire nodded eagerly, “God yes!”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t know you liked that movie.”

Grantaire grinned and leaned back against his chest, if he tipped his head to the side he could hear his heart beating steadily, “I love it. Though I’ll admit to being a sucker for anything with Colin Firth in it.”

“Even Mama Mia?” The blond teased, and Grantaire laughed in response.

“Especially Mama Mia.”

The movie went on in much the same way as the first, but slowly Enjolras got braver in the dark. He started pressing gentle kisses along Grantaire’s shoulder, once dragging his teeth over the back of R’s neck in a way that made the other man positively squirm.

This was torture, Grantaire decided, being slowly taken apart by a hot man in the dark while surrounded by friends. “Enjolras…” He mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his lap, “Quit it.”

“Mmm, but what if I don’t want to?” Enjolras muttered lowly in his ear.

Grantaire huffed and squeezed Enjolras’ hands, “I’m telling you too.”

Enjolras bit his shoulder and then sighed, “Yes darling whatever you say.”

R sighed in relief, sagging back against his chest, “Thank you.”

The movie continued on in silence.

And then there were hands, not urgent or pushing, but just hands on his stomach under his shirt, thumbs stroking against his skin. His hands were warm, softer than Grantaire had anticipated. Part of his mind was insisting that Enjolras _stop that immediately_ , but a louder part was saying that it felt nice. So he tipped his head back and kissed along Enjolras’ jaw.

Out of all the outcomes Grantaire could have predicted for the evening, having to fight off (or enjoy, mostly enjoy) a handsy Enjolras was not one of them.

These Bimonthly Movie Marathon Extravaganzas held plenty of surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya pals! I'm back from a weekend of longness (i don't like doctors but i also don't like being sick, you see the problem here) with a nice new chapter for you all.
> 
> Heads up for those of you who aren't about this life, but I think the next chapter will include really hot gay man sex. I'm not sure it'll be the next chapter, but I think it will be. Regardless of its timing, I'll put the notes and the beginning to give you the starting line of smutty things, and the ending line of the smutty things so you don't have to read it. Or so you can explicitly read that. Up to you.
> 
> And another thing!
> 
> As I've said before, I don't know what I'm doing (both with this and my life in a startling turn of events) so I don't know when/how this thing is gonna end. If ever. It may just be a never ending story of this group of idiots in a bunch of different circumstances, which will require a new title, or just lots of Bimonthly Movie Marathon Extravaganzas. Or it may have a concrete ending in a few chapters. But I know about as much as you do at this point, but I'm making this statement just so that way you have the same amount of information as I do.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! Please continue to comment and leave kudos, and share this with your friends because I am an attention whore. If you have any questions go ahead and leave them in the comments and I'll get back to you ASAP (questions can be but are not limited to; plot questions, character questions, and things like "is Jehan your self insert because lets be real here, Jehan is your self insert right?")


	8. Some Touches Burn Like Fire and Sooth Like Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire Get Into Sexy Type Shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY FRIENDS THERE IS SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER
> 
> So for those of you who aren't about that life it starts at line, "Enjolras all but shoved the door open and Grantaire with it..." and goes through the rest of the chapter. I will end it in the next chapter and give you the ending line then!
> 
> Also for those of you who are inclined to sexy type deals but not /all/ sexy type deals;  
> thar be blow jobs and a lot of hickeys going on, also like I added in the tags, what started out as really subtle D/s undertones, has all but turned into D/s stuff. Its close but not quite there, Enj is definitely like, "I'm gonna Dom the fuck out of you" and R is so there for that man. 
> 
> This is partially because R and I are eerily similar individuals (and I mean like canon R and I are weirdly alike, its really strange) and I can seriously only headcanon Enj's sexuality as two things; asexual and homoromantic or gay as all hell and the Dommiest Dom to Ever Dom.

It was a good thing that Grantaire had seen The King’s Speech before, because he was utterly distracted by the feeling of Enjolras’ long fingers dancing lightly over his fingers, playing against him like he was an instrument made just for him. And god did he feel like one. Enjolras’s thumb would drag over the center of his chest and goosebumps would break out along his skin in response. His hands would slide along his ribs and his torso would press against his hands without Grantaire’s control or permission. Enjolras may have been on to something when he said touching was intoxicating because now Grantaire felt drunk with something he couldn’t quite name as he lay against Enjolras and let the man splay his fingers over his heart in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.

How no one had noticed them shifting on the end of the couch would be a mystery to Grantaire for as long as he lived, or at least he assumed as much because it wasn’t like they were _hiding_. But as Enjolras dragged blunted nails along the top of his hip bones he broke and sat up straight, eyes wide in the dark, “I’m not feeling well.” He announced to the room suddenly, grateful for the dark around them that was hiding his blush, and the fact that his loose pants had oh so suddenly gotten very tight. He turned his eyes to Enjolras trying to silently communicate his attentions.

“Oh…Oh! Oh, um, here I’ll take you to my room.” Enjolras managed to grasp on to Grantaire’s intentions quickly, helping him off the couch and starting towards his room. “I’ll stay with you to make sure you’re okay.”

Joly frowned from his place sandwiched between Bossuet and Muischetta, “Do you need anything, maybe I should help.” He started out of his seat but was cut off from Bahorel across the room.

“Joly I really don’t think they need the help you’re offering.” His mouth was plastered with a crooked grin and Jehan snickered against his chest.

“You’re wicked.” Jehan muttered up at him.

“Like you don’t love it.” Bahorel teased back, pressing a kiss behind his ear.

Grantaire and Enjolras were immune to any jokes made as they scrambled over out stretched limbs and pillows and beer bottles to get to the door of Enjolras’ room; Enjolras’ hand pressed against the skin of Grantaire’s hip, he felt it like it was burning him, marking him.

Enjolras all but shoved the door open and Grantaire with it, shutting the door quickly behind him and then launching himself at the shorter man, grabbing his face with his hands and pulling him into a rough kiss that Grantaire eagerly reciprocated, clutching to the sides of Enjolras’ shirt as he was kissed. Or more accurately devoured.

Enjolras walked them back to the bed, pushing Grantaire back as his knees hit the edge of the bed.

This was heaven, Grantaire decided, spread out under Enjolras arching into his eager hands and panting against his neck. There was nowhere he’d ever felt better, or more comfortable. Okay maybe “comfortable” wasn’t the right word, his cock ached already and his stomach was in excited knots and all of his muscles were taught. Safe. Safe was better, he knew without a second guess that this was good and that Enjolras wouldn’t hurt him. Unless he asked. He kinda wanted to ask but that would involve being able to used words and those seemed to be escaping him right then.

Enjolras bit and kissed his way down Grantaire’s neck (the blond seemed to have an affinity for leaving marks on Grantaire’s skin, which he was more than okay with), hands low on his waist. He sat up, straddling Grantaire’s thighs and tugged at the hem of his shirt, “Off.” It was a low command that made the man under him shiver and oblige quickly, throwing his shirt in an unimportant corner.

Grantaire leaned up quickly, running his hands under Enjolras’ shirt, kissing the skin that was exposed to him as Enjolras pulled his shirt over his head. His skin was smooth and warm, like living marble. He pressed his palms against the blonde’s back, fingers spread over the notches of his spine.

He’d never been a religious man, it’d never mattered to him the way it did to others. But this, trailing kisses over Enjolras’ sternum, the feeling of Enjolras sliding his fingers through his hair and pulling when he did something good, this felt like worship. And he was devoted to it, his hands only pulling Enjolras closer as he kissed up the long column of his neck, leaving his own marks in his wake, a hopeful reminder of his dedication.

Enjolras gave a harsh pull on his hair, bending Grantaire’s neck back and forcing their eyes to meet. Enjolras’ normally pale blue eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide and his face flushed, lips red and swollen from kissing and biting. His chest was heaving with shallow breaths as he dragged his eyes over Grantaire’s face and down his chest, making him blush, he smirked as he watched the blush travel down his chest.

“You look beautiful like this.” Enjolras whispered, using the hand that wasn’t in Grantaire’s hair to trail up his chest to his neck.

Grantaire swallowed, the action made awkward due to the curve of his neck, “Like what?” He asked, his voice low and rough.

Enjolras released the grip on his hair, but brought up his other hand to hold his face, “Absolutely wrecked.” He whispered and ducked his head down to kiss Grantaire slowly, moving his hands to hold his face gently, “And all mine.” He grinned against his lips and chuckled, the sound making Grantaire smile back, “You’re gonna hate me when you finally get a look at your neck.”

Grantaire shook his head slightly, “I could never hate you, Apollo. I’ll bear my marks proudly. Everyone else can fuck off.”

Enjolras laughed then, a genuine laugh and Grantaire stowed the sound away, it was something he’d treasure.

The heat in their veins and dulled from a forest fire to something dimmer, slower. They parted for a brief moment to pull each other’s pants and socks off. Taking their time to kiss and touch the new skin that was revealed.

It turned out that Enjolras was littered in freckles, all over his legs and up his stomach, they dulled out a bit at his chest, hardly noticeable against his pecs, before darkening against at his collar bone and up his neck to his face. Grantaire trailed his hands over Enjolras’ arms, kissing his shoulder, “Someday, I’m going to connect all these.” He muttered, kissing a particularly dark one against at the base of his neck.

Enjolras hummed, still hovering over Grantaire’s hips, both clad now only in boxers. The urgency had left them, and now they were basking in the fact that they finally, _finally_ , had each the other, they had the permission to touch and be touched and it was glorious. “I wouldn’t stop you, that sounds wonderful.”

Grantaire leaned up and kissed him, moving his hands to Enjolras’s hair, kissing him slow and deep and dirty. It was the kind of kiss that made his toes curl and his whole body pulse and ache.

Slowly the moved to lie down, Enjolras’ hands on either side of Grantaire’s head. And then Enjolras dropped to his forearms and their hips pressed together and Grantaire let out a long, low moan at the sudden contact. He’d been able to focus on Enjolras and not his erection for a little while but now his whole mind was focused on the ache there and he rocked his hips up against Enjolras’, reaching down to grab his ass and to hold him there while they rocked together.

Grantaire couldn’t get enough of this, the feel of Enjolras pressed wholly against him, panting against each other’s necks, and moans being torn from their throats. Somehow they both managed to get their underwear off, giggling slightly as their legs got tangled.

And then they very quickly stopped giggling.

“Fuck me.” Grantaire groaned, biting hard at his bottom lip. Of course Enjolras was perfect everywhere because he was Enjolras. It took every ounce of his self-control to keep from bending down and sucking Enjolras off right then and there.

“That could be arranged.” Enjolras smirked at him but his face was flushed and his voice was breathless. To know that he had affected the man this way just turned Grantaire on more, if that were possible. “Lie back.” His voice was low and scratchy and it made Grantaire go from turned on to desperate in no time at all.

Enjolras kissed his lips, then down his neck (which by now was more bruise than not) to his chest, over his stomach to his hip bones and then…nothing. Somewhere along the way Grantaire’s eyes had closed and he opened them slowly to see Enjolras between his legs with a smirk on his face. “Eyes open.” He commanded, and Grantaire obeyed.

Enjolras continued kissing his skin, nipping at the inside of his thighs and enjoying the sound of Grantaire’s whimper.

Grantaire threaded his fingers into Enjolras’ hair, trying to keep his hips still, but it wasn’t working. Every touch of his lips had Grantaire shifting restlessly against the bed.

And then, finally, Enjolras licked a broad stripe along Grantaire’s cock, causing him to moan long and loud. Probably too loud. Definitely too loud, but right then he couldn’t be bothered because Enjolras’ mouth was hot and wet and perfect and so so so good.

But naturally, as Grantaire’s luck dictated, there was a knock at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading I hope you *~*enjoyed*~* it (wink wink nudge nudge). Pls keep commenting as your comments sustain me.
> 
> Also if the end of this chapter seems weird, its cause I wrote it after having a bit too much to drink and edited it that way. Maybe not my best move but I wanted to get a chapter out today and I did it by God!


	9. I've Got Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy Shenanigans And Cuddling Ensue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this whole chapter is either smut, and then aftercare cuddling things. I didn't want any more weird flow where I wrote a bunch and cut it up unevenly, so I stopped here.
> 
> If you're just not into sex but down with aftercare you can start reading here; "I've got him." Enjolras called..." 
> 
> But for those of you who aren't into any of that jazz, I'm sorry for kind of excluding your interests in these past two chapters, it'll be a while before there's any more serious smut I promise. At minimum two chapters.
> 
> However for those of you who are into smut, including last chapter you've gotten six and a half pages of smut in microsoft word, times new roman, 12 point font. So you have been gifted my friends.

Enjolras pressed his forearm firmly over Grantaire’s hips, pinning him to the bed.

“Grantaire? Are you alright?” Joly called through the door. Fuck.

Grantaire breathed out heavily and tried to take a deep breath in, but that’s when Enjolras wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and started sucking him like he was starving. Asshole.

“F-Fine! I’mreallyfineJoly!” Grantaire squeaked, his breath high pitched and breathless. Enjolras was a wicked wicked man, and he pulled hard on his hair, but luckily Enjolras understood he didn’t mean stop.

“You don’t sound fine. I’m coming in!” Joly shouted and the doorknob started to turn.

“No!” Grantaire shouted and tried to lurch forward, but Enjolras wasn’t having it, bobbing his head quickly, “I-I’m really okay, I just—ah—I just tripped trying to find the light switch and fell, I’m fine.”

“I should check if you hurt your head, especially if you weren’t well earlier.” The door cracked open and Enjolras blessedly (and cursedly) pulled away with what was to Grantaire’s ears the most obscene pop.

“Its fine Joly, I’ll take care of him.” His voice was low and gravelly and his eyes were locked on Grantaire’s.

“Alright…if you’re sure.”

“I am.”

They could just hear Joly pad away over their heavy breaths.

Enjolras climbed up his body, biting his stomach and chest, keeping his eyes on Grantaire’s all the while. “What am I going to do with you?” Enjolras practically purred, his lips hovering over Grantaire’s.

“Something positively wicked I hope.” Grantaire grinned, and tipped his head up to kiss him, but Enjolras pulled his head away.

“Oh definitely wicked.” Enjolras bit Grantaire’s bottom lip and then soothed the sting with a kiss. “Hands above your head.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow but obeyed, “Who knew you were so kinky?”

Enjolras just chuckled and leaned across his bed to the nightstand, “You’re honestly surprised I like being in control of someone?”

Grantaire huffed, he held his hands above his head willingly, Enjolras wasn’t in _complete_ control (he was, Grantaire just really liked it too because _Enjolras_ ). “I’m not surprised just intrigued. And you’re not in control of me, I am a willing participant.”

Enjolras snuck something out of Grantaire’s line of sight and kept on talking, “I know you’re a willing participant, and I would hope you know that you can say stop at any time and I would; but that being said, you haven’t moved your hands and you don’t want to, and you don’t want to because I told you to. The fact that your hands are above your head was not fully your decision.”

Grantaire bit his lip and flushed, “…but the reason they’re staying there is my choice.” His voice was quiet and nervous.

“Because you want to obey.” Enjolras grinned and kissed him, rocking his hips down in a slow roll that had Grantaire moaning and arching his back, his hands flexed to touch Enjolras, but the blond man noticed and pressed his wrists together in only one of his own. Grantaire had noticed how long Enjolras’ fingers were before, but this was different. “Now if only you’d do this at meetings.” Enjolras huffed, pressing his face against Grantaire’s shoulder as they rocked together.

Grantaire laughed breathlessly, “Fuck you.”

Enjolras ground his hips down and then reached for the thing behind his back, pulling out a bottle of lube without letting Grantaire see it, “I really don’t think you’re in a place to talk about being fucked.” He spread lube across his free hand, warming it up before wrapping his hand around both his and Grantaire’s cocks.

Grantaire moaned and then bit at Enjolras’ shoulder to muffle himself as the thrust his hips up into his hand, “Oh my god.” His hands strained against Enjolras’ only for him to push down harder.

Where Grantaire was vocal, Enjolras was quiet but as intense as he ever was. His eyes were dark and blown wide, watching Grantaire with the kind of focus he generally reserved for arguing with politicians or police officers, to have that level of focus directed at him was heady and it made it hard to breathe. Grantaire leaned up and kissed him hard and messy, all teeth and tongue and no finesse but with the way they were rocking together he wasn’t going to last all that much longer anyway.

“C-Close.” Grantaire stuttered out and nipped at his chin and to his neck.

 Enjolras growled and moved faster, pressing his hands into the mattress harder, “Good.”

Grantaire tried to muffle his shout against Enjolras’ neck but it was all but useless, his whole body was tense and he arched up and moaned as he came, his finger nails digging into his palm. Enjolras followed after with a low moan, leaving Grantaire’s stomach wet and sticky but god he did not mind at all. His whole body was tingling and Enjolras was pressing slow, soft kisses against his mouth. He released his wrists, only to massage the skin there.

“….Enjolras?” Courfeyrac called, and Grantaire was very grateful it was Courfeyrac.

“I’ve got him.” Enjolras called back, and pulled the two of them up, tugging him into his chest, and kissing his temples. “I’ve got him.” His voice was quiet, clearly meant for only Grantaire, who was resting his head in the crook of his neck and trying to catch his breath.

He slid his hands over Enjolras’ shoulder to his neck, clinging to him limpet like, more grateful than he’d ever been for the man’s presence. His brain was oddly silent, not that kind that he’d been experiencing over the past few hours. Now he couldn’t think if he wanted to, there was nothing left to him except the rhythm of Enjolras’ heart against his skin.

“You good?” Enjolras whispered. Grantaire nodded and curled his fingers against Enjolras’ neck. “Is it okay if I leave to get a washcloth? Answer honestly please.” Grantaire shook his head after a pause and Enjolras nodded. “Okay, I’ll stay.” And he did, letting Grantaire stay curled in his lap.

They stayed like that for a little while longer, Grantaire couldn’t have kept track of the time if he was asked to (though for Enjolras, he would have tried).  Slowly he managed to pull his head away from Enjolras’ neck and smiled at him, blushing slightly. Enjolras grinned and kissed his forehead, “Hello gorgeous.”

“Hi.” Grantaire whispered, still a little too close to him, he sighed happily as Enjolras ran his fingers through his hair, “You’re good.”

Enjolras chuckled and nuzzled the top of his head, “Ditto.” He pulled back and kissed his lips chastely, “I’m gonna get us a clean wash cloth okay?” Grantaire nodded and watched as Enjolras (regretfully) got dressed into loose clothing and stepping outside. He heard low murmurs and then Courfeyrac’s loud whooping and he pulled one of Enjolras’ pillows over his face, blushing furiously but he couldn’t keep from grinning.

When Enjolras returned Grantaire had regained his head in its entirety and was laying back and sprawled across the mattress. Enjolras grinned and stepped over to him, damp wash cloth in his hand, “Jesus you’re beautiful.”

Grantaire blushed brightly and stretched his limbs, “Shut up.”

Enjolras sat on the bed and shook his head, “Absolutely never.” He pressed a kiss to his forehead and dragged the washcloth over his stomach, goosebumps breaking out across his skin making him shiver. Enjolras tossed the wash cloth across the room and clambered into bed, still clothed and pulled Grantaire into him.

And they stayed there, curling into each other in silence, content in each other’s presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you had a v fun time reading it (AGRESSIVELY AWKWARD WINKING)!
> 
> Keep commenting, share with your friends, let me know if you've got questions!


	10. Moth Wings and Butterfly Stomachs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's really no summary here because its a super short chapter because your author's brain is not cooperating. 
> 
> but rest assured everyone in this chapter is reprehensibly adorable to make up for it.

They stayed like that for a long time, wound around each other with the intent to never let go. Just talking to each other, laughing at the stupid things they said, Grantaire frowning every time Enjolras apologized for biting too hard or going to rough too fast. “If I didn’t like it you would have known. Have I ever had trouble voicing my disagreements with you before?” “No.” “Then why on earth would I start in bed?” And Enjolras would smile and kiss him and Grantaire would beam, “Kisses will get you everywhere with me.”

At some point Enjolras wound up under Grantaire, face red, tears streaming down his face because Grantaire had found out that Enjolras had ticklish sides much to his pleasure. Enjolras was gasping and trying to catch his breath between laughter. When he actually made to grab at Grantaire’s wrists the brunette stopped, smiling down at him, “I’m not forgetting this.” He promised and then somehow he wound up on his back with Enjolras over him, begging for him to never use this new knowledge in public. Grantaire could make no such promise.

Eventually the calmed down, giggling subsiding to silence again. And after a few minutes Enjolras sighed and rolled over to look at the ceiling. “We should probably go back out there shouldn’t we?”

“….no?” Grantaire tried, but even he knew better. He ran his hands over his face, “Ugh, Bahorel and Courfeyrac are going to be miserable.”

“Ferre will do his best to keep Courfeyrac in check.”

“Oh that’s been known to work so well. And Jehan is just going to encourage the both of them. Jehan is an actual faerie, you know that right? Like the old Irish kind who fuck shit up when they don’t receive the payment they deem fit.” Grantaire grumbled, pushing himself up and off the bed to try and find his clothes.

Enjolras laughed and snuck up behind Grantaire as the other man pulled on his boxers, “Have you told them that yet? Jehan would love that description.”

Grantaire grinned and leaned back against his chest, “No but I’ll do you one better if you do me a favor?”

“Mmm, what would that favor be?” Enjolras hummed and kissed his neck.

“I’ll draw Jehan as an old school faerie, if you step out and get my bag with my sleep stuff in it?”

Enjolras grinned and stepped back, “I’ll be back in a minute.” He slapped Grantaire’s ass and stepped back outside, chuckling as Grantaire blushed.

That man would be death of him.

He returned a moment later, huffing slightly, “Good god what do you have in here? Rocks?”

Grantaire shrugged and looked pointedly at the floor, “I was not sure what this weekend would entail. And I had no plans of you all but fucking me in to the mattress with my wrists pinned—not that I’m complaining—so I brought a little of everything.” He dug into his bag and pulled out his pair of sweatpants that did not cling to his ass, he wasn’t sure if he or Enjolras could handle that just then, a t shirt and his sketchbook and a small pencil case.

“You’re going to draw them now?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire nodded, “I’ve got the picture in my head now, and I don’t wanna lose it. Now let’s go.”

Enjolras grinned and took his free hand, stepping out into the living area quickly.

“Jesus Taire you look like you’ve been eaten!” Courfeyrac shouted from the floor, they were all gathered there, lights on, trying to pick the next movie. “I mean lord knows your boyfriend is a kinky little shit, but wow, that’s actually impressive.” He looked over at Enjolras with a look of sheer pride in his eyes, “I have never been more proud of you than in this moment.”

Enjolras snorted but couldn’t hide the blush on his face, “What getting that incredible ignorant man who was formerly your dean of college didn’t do it for you?”

Courfeyrac paused and shrugged, tilting his head from side to side in a noncommittal manner, “I mean that helped but this wins.”

Grantaire curled up on the couch, trying his best to extricate himself from the conversation. “Hey Jehan, would it be cool if I sketched you as like, the legit old school Irish fae?”

“Dude fuck yes!” They called from the floor, tossing one long braid over their shoulder, “My only demand is that I have moth wings.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow, “I’m going to need a reference.”

Jehan untangled themself from Bahorel’s lap and took only a few long strides to Grantaire’s place on the couch, “Like these, it’s called an Atlas Moth. They’re the world’s largest moth.” They showed Jehan the picture and smiled as Grantaire nodded.

“I can definitely do that. Send me that picture? And would you mind too terribly sitting on the couch?” Jehan shook their head no and took their place near the end of the couch, “You don’t need to pose, sit however you want and just do whatever. I might ask you to turn your head certain ways, but that’ll be it. I just want to make sure I don’t ruin those gorgeous eyes of yours.” Jehan blushed, and R felt victorious.

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so part of why this incredibly short chapter too so damned long is because a) writer's block, b) it was my mom's birthday, and c) I've been aggressively playing Tomb Raider and I wish I could apologize but I just...Lara Croft is a really hot lesbian and no one can convince me otherwise.
> 
> (also its like...really hard for me to reconcile the militant feminist in me with the part of me that is also really incredibly gay, and occasionally (constantly) there are unnecessary shots of Lara Croft's ass and I mean, they're only there for fan service but....it's a really nice ass and I am a fan who is being serviced and I am ashamed)


	11. Let's Dance Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire is Talented, Bahorel Likes Disney, Crazy Dancing, Jehan is Precious, and Courfeyrac Tries to Save That Which Cannot Be Saved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLZ TAKE ALL THIS FLUFF AS AN APOLOGY FOR THE DELAY

At some point the group had settled on Saving Mr. Banks (“Yes okay, so I know it’s not like… _historical_ , historical fiction but guys. Come on. Disney.” Was Bahorel’s impassioned plea) and after a minor argument between Grantaire and Courfeyrac, R was allowed to keep a small desk lamp on behind him so he could still draw. Enjolras curled against his side, his head on R’s shoulder, watching him sketch.

If Grantaire were to be honest with himself he’d spent about as much time watching Jehan as he’d watched Enjolras. Jehan had this air about them, the way they moved and walked exuded a confidence that Grantaire could certainly never manage. And the idea of Jehan being fae fit too damn well. With long but graceful limbs and a willowy frame with all that long fiery hair, sticking wings on their back didn’t seem unnatural at all. And they could certainly be all vengeance and strength, but with the changing of the wind they were as soft and smooth as water.

He bit his tongue as he drew their braid, trying to figure out how in the hell the strands of hair wove together like that.

Enjolras kissed his shoulder, “You’re really good at that.”

Grantaire grinned as the praise did something odd to his stomach that he was certain he’d never get used to, “I try to be.” He pulled out a smaller pencil from his bag of them and dotted freckles over Jehan’s cheekbones.

“How do you make the eyes look so intense?” Enjolras asked with an honest and open curiosity in his voice, winding himself closer to Grantaire (which in all honesty wasn’t exactly possible anymore, if it weren’t for the way atoms repelled each other they’d be meld together).

“Shadow mostly. And you have to imagine that it’s there already otherwise it won’t be when you draw it.” Grantaire tipped his head back and kissed Enjolras softly. “Someday when I’m slightly less afraid that this is all a dream induced by far too much rum I’ll show you the sketches of you that I’ve done.”

“Yes, yes you’re all very cute and Grantaire is very talented but some of us are trying to watch a movie.” Courfeyrac intoned from his equally cute place curled in Combeferre’s lap.

Grantaire blushed and nodded. And silence fell over the room once more, save the movie and the quiet scritch-scratch of Grantaire’s pencil against the paper.

And then suddenly, they were singing.

“Oh, oh, oh! Let’s go fly a kite, up to the highest height! Let’s go fly a kite and send it soaring!” Somehow they were all standing, pulling each other into crazy spins and dancing like children. Muischetta, Joly and Bossuet were holding hands and jumping in a circle, heads tossed back with wide smiles. Combeferre and Courfeyrac appeared to be attempting a too fast waltz but were giddy with the idea of it. Grantaire had pulled Enjolras to his feet, the blond blushed and appeared somewhat uncomfortable with the idea but Grantaire had enough enthusiasm for the both of them. Bahorel and Jehan in his arms and was swinging him from side to side, Jehan looked more than pleased. Feuilly and Marius had a beer in one hand, the other was clasped around their partner’s shoulder, swaying and singing with the abandon that can only be achieved by having one drink too many. “Up through the atmosphere, up where the air is clear! Oh, let’s go fly a kite!”

They were laughing and singing far too loud and miles away from the intended key but no one could manage to care. When the scene came to its end on screen, it was Bossuet (who had Joly in a dip in one arm, and Muischetta in the other) with a heaving chest and a nervous grin who asked, “Again?”

They all heartily agreed.

In fact they agreed so much, they danced to the song two more times and they only stopped because someone from across the hall really didn’t care for Mary Poppins.

Slowly they all collapsed into their seats, chests still heaving with heavy breaths and mad endorphin induced grins. Enjolras pulled Grantaire into his lap and kissed him soundly, “I like dancing crazy with you.” His voice was low, something for only Grantaire to hear.

Grantaire smiled back, pressing their foreheads together, “I like seeing you dance crazy.”

“Oh my god! Grantaire this is gorgeous!” Jehan’s voice held unabashed glee as he clutched Grantaire’s sketchbook between his hands like a lifeline. Their head popped up to look at the artist, “Do-Do I really look like that?”

Grantaire blushed and nodded, “I mean, get rid of the wings but yeah. And frankly if you had giant moth wings I don’t think anyone would question it.”

Jehan, Jehan with all the confidence in the world, Jehan with bright smiles and a wicked tongue was looking at Grantaire with the most soul wrenching expression on their face. “Thank you.” Their voice was soft and they sunk into the couch, suddenly graceless. “I didn’t…I didn’t know.” They reached out to touch the page but pulled their fingers back before they could (if Grantaire let out a breath of relief at that, well, who could blame him).

Bahorel wrapped an arm around their shoulders and kissed their temple, “Darling Jehan, any of us would tell you you’re the most gorgeous creature in the room.”

Everyone pulled their eyes away from the pair, something about that moment seemed to intimate for the rest of them to watch. But the silence grew unbearably awkward and naturally Courfeyrac had to save it, “What Bahorel is trying to say is, we’ve all had that one weird sex dream about you, and when we woke up none of us were sure what to do with our feelings.”

That didn’t help the silence.

“Oh my god I was trying to make a joke!” Courfeyrac crowed, “Are you—Feuilly?”

“IT WAS ONE TIME AND I DAMN NEAR HAD AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS!”

The room broke into raucous laughter, even if Jehan’s cheeks were tinged a little pink, but they looked ever the more pleased for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I AM THE WORST I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG GOD DAMN
> 
> Okay yeah, my bad for the super constant and then suddenly super slow updating. Life got crazy. As in, "my little brother's girlfriend is living with us, and more specifically in my room, because she needed too and while that's good and I am glad she is here I would like my room back plz" level crazy. Also we're trying to move because now we have six people and a 120 pound dog living in a three bedroom townhouse with no backyard and that shit ain't gonna fly, but the house we found is filled with mold which is really fucking funny because we had to move because OUR house is filled with mold.
> 
> Seriously someone kill me.
> 
> Also check your houses for mold, that shit will literally fuck over your whole life I am not kidding.
> 
> ANYHOW enough about my life, tell me about your day, who do you have a crush on if you are inclined to crushes, have you had weird sex dreams about close friends? Send me these and other comments and questions in the comments below!
> 
> Also to make up for the delay, here's a sketch of fae Jehan with Atlas Moth wings (be aware that there wasn't a way to make those wings to scale so the background is just orange); http://daarntootin.tumblr.com/post/111525860765/i-got-bored-have-a-fae-jehan


	12. Sweet Words and Soft Touches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words Are Said, Kisses Are Given, And Touches Exchanged Frequently

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy bits here, v mild though. There are no actual shenanigans, just discussion about shenanigans.
> 
> If you don't want to read that bit, it starts the line, "Enjolras let out a low groan and turned to grab Grantaire’s waist..." and goes through till the end.

At some point Grantaire fell asleep curled against Enjolras’ chest. He awoke to Enjolras rubbing his hands over his arms and murmuring in his ear, “Come on ‘Taire, to bed with you.” Grantaire whined and grabbed at Enjolras’ wrists and the blond chuckled, “I’m coming to bed too, let’s go.”

Somehow Grantaire got to his feet, Enjolras wrapping a strong steadying arm around his waist as they said their quiet goodnights to the few still awake (most notably was Joly and Bossuet, Joly was in Bossuet’s lap, legs wrapped loosely around his waist, they were speaking in hushed tones, Muischetta asleep in the chair above them; it was odd to see only two of the three) and clambered their way back to Enjolras’ room.

Once they stepped inside Enjolras blushed, they hadn’t quite realized the state they’d left the bed in. One blanket was half way across the room, the sheets were in a tangled mess and the corner of the mattress was exposed. The blond shifted uncomfortably and played the hair at the back of his neck, “Um…you get ready for bed. I’ll just…I’ll fix that.”

Grantaire leaned up on his toes and kissed his cheek (reminding himself again that _he could actually do that now_ ), “Want some help? I mean, I helped make the mess so…”

Enjolras let out a low groan and turned to grab Grantaire’s waist, “If you remind me of that fact again we’ll end up doing that again and I don’t think our friend’s would appreciate waking up to  that.”

Tucking himself against Enjolras’ chest, Grantaire blushed furiously, “I mean…you could make me be quiet. There are ways.” He could feel Enjolras’ breath hitch and the same time his hands spasm against his hips before tightening and pulling him closer.

“Don’t tempt me. Believe me I’ve thought about all of them at least once.” He paused, “More than once.”

With a squeak Grantaire pulled away, just enough to meet Enjolras’ eyes, “You’ve thought about it?!”

Enjolras smirked because of course he would the infuriating bastard, and dipped his head down next to Grantaire’s ear and lowered his voice, “What else am I supposed to think about when you go off on those infuriating tirades of yours?” He slid his hands down to Grantaire’s ass and squeezed, “I’ve thought of several creative ways to shut you up.”

That was mind boggling information for Grantaire. Who definitely went on those tirades because well, if Enjolras was paying attention to him it was a good day, even if it was wrathful attention (and also because Enjolras is an idiot and oft needs reminding that good will and a heart of gold will not in fact change the world). Little did he know that while the back of his mind was wishing Enjolras had a creative way of shutting him up that may or may not involve specific pieces of his anatomy, Enjolras had thought of _several_ ways to do it.

With a parting slap on Grantaire’s (perfect) ass he pulled away, “Come on, help me make the bed so we can sleep.”

Grantaire followed him with a confused frown, “But I mean, if we’re just going to mess it up again what’s the point?”

Enjolras balled the sheet up in his hands and threw it into a nearby hamper before reaching into his closet to find a clean set, “You don’t seriously think we’re going to have sex right now do you?”

Grantaire tugged the mattress cover over the corner with a huff of frustration, “Well yes I do actually.”

Enjolras chuckled and came back over, “Sweetheart,” he started (and wow did that do things to Grantaire’s heartbeat), “it’s almost three in the morning and our friends are sleeping. And frankly I’d rather not ask you to partake in the many ways I’ve thought of shutting you up right now. You’re tired and your body has already taken a bit of a beating.” He winced as he threw the sheet over the bed, helping Grantaire smooth it down, “Sorry about your neck by the way. I have a thing about marks.”

Now it was Grantaire’s turn to smirk, “Trust me my neck and I noticed that.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, ignoring his body agreeing with Enjolras, “I’m not tired and I want to partake in all those ways actually.”

Enjolras let his head hang between his shoulders as he sighed, “Not tonight. You’ll thank me in the morning. Trust me, I’ll run you through all of them, just slowly. And I’m sure that’s slower than you’d like.

Grantaire frowned but Enjolras had that tone in his voice that very clearly stated that those were the rules and there would be no arguing his way out of them. “Fine, but I’ll have you know I don’t like it.”

Enjolras popped his head up and smiled, crawling on to the bed and grabbing Grantaire by the waist and hauling him against his chest, “Duly noted.” He kissed his temple and hummed, “You know I may like you better when you don’t argue with me.”

“You’re a goddamned liar Enjolras, you love it in when I argue with you.” His voice was steady but honestly Grantaire was terrified that he was wrong, maybe Enjolras did like him best when quiet and obedient. And as shown earlier he could be, but not all the time, not when Enjolras was wrong. He’d never manage to keep his mouth shut.

Enjolras sighed, “Dammit you’ve figured me out.” He kissed him and Grantaire slumped against his chest, “I love seeing you argue. You get all angry and feisty and your eyes get all bright.” He dragged his thumb under Grantaire’s eye gently. “You okay?”

Grantaire nodded, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I just…” He held Enjolras’ wrist gently to hold him there, “I thought you were serious for a minute and got very concerned.”

“Hey.” Enjolras’ voice had taken on that authoritative tone that made Grantaire’s knees get weak and he was suddenly very grateful that he was sitting in Enjolras’ lap, “I fell for you the way you are. Arguments and angry face and all.” He kissed him softly and kissed him gently, “I don’t want you to change. I’d feel awful if you changed because of me.”

Grantaire pressed his forehead against Enjolras’ and nodded, “Okay. Okay good.” He dropped his hands to Enjolras’ chest and curled his fingers in his shirt. “And feel free to continue to shout at me at meetings.”

“While thinking of ways to make you shut up?”

“Yessir.”

“Oh I think I like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Sorry for this one being so brief, it just came to a natural conclusion a little sooner than I anticipated.
> 
> Next chapter will def involve actual porn tho. 
> 
> And unfortunately I cannot give you even a guesstimate of when that'll be. As I mentioned before my brother's girlfriend has moved in and we are sharing a room together. She has a penchant for watching everything I do on my laptop and would certainly stare while I wrote and shockingly enough, I don't dig having someone watch me write porn. Or like watching me write at all.
> 
> I hope to have it out soon but who knows when!
> 
> In the the mean time, in the comments below tell me what your favorite food is, what you think the hardest decision in the Mass Effect series is, and anything you might wanna tell me about the story thus far (seriously you guys, we don't move into a new house until April and not having my own room is killing me because I am 100000% an introvert, your comments are sustaining me).
> 
> I hope you all have a good day/week/month/year! TTFN!
> 
> (And if you wanna continue talking to me; I'm daarntootin on tumblr)


	13. Benders, Dancers, and Twists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire Shows Enjolras His Reach and His Flexibility, Enjolras is Pleased, Courfeyrac Should Probably See a Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its been forever I am so sorry to make up for the wait this chapter is really long and probably should've been broken into two chapters but you guys deserve this.
> 
> Heads up for mildly sexy bits in the beginning, nothing super graphic or anything just like..."ooohh Enjolras I'm so hot, oh we're so hot lets be hot together" but if you wanna skip over that bit it starts at, "You look gorgeous doing that.", and ends at line, "....he was suddenly very grateful he had stretched."

Eventually they fell asleep, thought it was much later than either of them had intended. But luckily no one had any plans on waking up much before noon.

Grantaire woke up first, somehow in the night Enjolras had moved so his head was on Grantaire’s chest, his arms looped low around the shorter man’s waist to keep him there. The sight made Grantaire smile wider than he had in ages and his heart beat sped up to match. He bent his head down and kissed Enjolras’s temple. The blond looked softer asleep, the hard lines of passionate anger now longer etched around his mouth or furrowed between his brows. He looked younger, and even in his sleep he looked tired. Dark circles were under his eyes and his body was so limp it looked grateful for the relaxation.

Slowly Grantaire became aware of his own body, the way it ached with each breath. Whatever Enjolras had done to him had been impressive. Slowly and carefully he extricated himself from the blonde’s arms and clambered out of the bed. He tugged his sweat pants on and started stretching a few feet away.

He was bent over his legs that were straight in front of him, toes pointed hard and then flexing to release the tension in the arches of his feet. As he stood up Enjolras spoke.

“What are you doing?”

“Stretching.” He replied quietly, stepping so his legs were slightly over shoulder with apart his feet pointing to the side as he bent his knees slowly, his back straight as a rod, his arms moving slowly from his waist, to stretched out parallel with the floor, then over his head and slowly back down as he rose up.

“Those look like ballet stretches.” Enjolras yawned and sat up, running his fingers through his tangled hair.

“That’d be because they are, Bright Eyes.” Grantaire teased, lifting his left foot slightly so the only part touching the floor were his toes and dragged them along the carpet so his heel touched the toes of his right foot and began the slow stretch downward again.

“I didn’t know you did ballet.”

“That’d be because I don’t.” He switched his feet so the heel of his right foot was touching the toes of his left and started stretching again, “I used to though, in high school and my first year of college. I loved it, I was pretty good too.”

“Why’d you stop?” Enjolras was sitting on the edge of the bed now, watching Grantaire intently.

“Ballet is expensive and time consuming. And I was taught to dance en pointe, and pointe shoes last about three months and are incredibly expensive and difficult to replace. Not to mention the four to six hours of dance every day and conditioning on the weekends was really cutting into the time I had to sleep, and drink, and ya know, piss off the hot blond kid in those meetings my friend dragged me to on Fridays.” Grantaire winked as he slid his right foot forward and started stretching again.

“You look gorgeous doing that.” Enjolras’ voice was soft and it caught Grantaire off guard. And then a wicked thought came over Grantaire.

“Thanks.” He stood up straight, held his arms over his head and bent back in a way that he knew looked good, he’d spent years in front of a mirror making sure it did. When he popped up he shook out his leg and winced more for effect than from any actual pain (ballet had a way of upping a person’s pain tolerance when it came to sore muscles). “My hips hurt…” He muttered, just loud enough so Enjolras could hear it.

“Maybe you should go talk to Jol-What are you doing?”

Mid-sentence Grantaire dropped slowly into the splits, he was rough but not enough to lose all his flexibility, he was only half an inch off the floor and in a minute he could drop the rest of the way with no problem. “The splits what does it look like?” His palms were pressed hard against the floor and his elbows were locked and he did not want to drop the rest of the way but with the way Enjolras was looking at him… “Tell me to not lock my elbows so I can get down all the way. This is the hardest part.”

Enjolras didn’t even blink, “Unlock your elbows.”

And Grantaire did, the hitch in Enjolras’ breath was plenty reward for the slight twinge of pain in his hip flexors. He rocked a little from side to side, warming up and loosening the muscles there. “And now the other side.”

“The other side….?” Enjolras trailed off, his face was more flushed than it had been a minute ago and he certainly seemed awake now.

“Yeah, you can’t just stretch one side of your body. Or well, I mean you can but that’d be really not pleasant.” He slid down faster this time, his body was warm and he felt confident. He dropped easily.

“Of course.” Enjolras coughed and started to stand up, “I’m just gonna go to the—”

“Wait!” Grantaire stopped and rotated so he was straddling now as opposed to doing the splits. “My lower back kills. Could you help me?”

Enjolras appeared to have a mental war with himself before sighing and stepping towards Grantaire, “Of course I can, what do you need me to do?”

Grantaire laid down, his chest touching the floor and his arms stretched out in front of him, “Just put your hands on my lower back, on either side of my spine and push me forward.” Enjolras did and Grantaire let out a low moan, a little lower and louder just for Enjolras’ benefit. “Oh yes, thank you…Just a little further? You’ll know to stop because my muscles will shake, that’s the point of resistance. And don’t lessen the pressure then, just hold it—Yes just like that oh god.” He whimpered, which was entirely unnecessary. It burned but not too much and in a more than pleasant manner. He let his finger nails dig into the carpet for show. “That’s perfect thank you.”

Enjolras removed his hands like a man burned and Grantaire sat up slowly. “Want me to show you a trick?”

Enjolras nodded and Grantaire stood, moving the blond to where he needed him, “Okay, you just stand right there.” Enjolras nodded again and Grantaire took in the wide eyes that were now almost entirely pupil, and grinned as he stepped back, pacing out the distance carefully. When he got back far enough, he dropped to his knees, his back to Enjolras, and carefully rolled over his shoulder, landing with his back pressed all but perfectly against Enjolras’ legs and his hands holding his hips. His head was tipped back, looking up at Enjolras.

For a moment there it felt like he was in control, he’d effected Enjolras so wholly that it felt like he’d won a game he hadn’t known he was playing. But there on his knees, holding Enjolras to him as the other man threaded his fingers into his hair, he felt laid bare. It was clear that Enjolras was the one with the control, with the power; a glance had stripped Grantaire of all his walls and armor and left him entirely vulnerable.

But it didn’t at all feel like he had lost.

“Stand up.” Enjolras said quietly, his voice rough and low but every letter held authority, a command that Grantaire could never match.

It should be noted that Grantaire was not a particularly prideful man, he was entirely aware of his looks and his body and the fact that he very often smelled like last night’s rum and patchy stubble was rubbed rough across jaw and chin, and that his hair more often than not was a disaster of tangles and curls. But, Grantaire was showing Enjolras tricks and he would continue to do so, and the way Enjolras’ eyes tracked him had absolutely nothing to do with it. Or quite possibly everything but who really knows.

Leaning forward Grantaire pressed his palms to the floor and pressed his torso up and in one quick motion, rose up on his toes, but it had been awhile since he’d tried anything requiring quite that much dexterity and he started to stumble back and then strong arms were looped around his waist and chest, holding him close.

“You are so incredibly beautiful Grantaire.” His voice was right in Grantaire’s ear and now it was his turn to have his breath catch in his throat, his hands flying to cover Enjolras’. “I love watching your body always but just now…” There was a pause and then a chuckle as an idea struck, “Oh you so should not have let me know you’re that flexible.”

Grantaire had absolutely no idea where Enjolras was going with this but he was suddenly very grateful he had stretched.

This was of course the exact moment the door flew open and a wide eyed Joly very urgently whisper shouted, “Courfeyrac is sleep walking naked and Bossuet is trying to cook and won’t listen to reason!” And then promptly turned around and left only to say (rather loudly), “Chetta do something! O-Oh my god someone put pants on Courfeyrac please for the love of god.” (“I second that movement!” was called out by Feuilly in a voice that could only be described as a cross between nausea and terror)

Enjolras dropped his forehead to Grantaire’s shoulder, “Looks like our plans have been put on hold.” He kissed the back of Grantaire’s neck and stepped away, much to Grantaire’s displeasure. “I know, love.” (that was a good word coming out of Enjolras’ mouth and Grantaire’s brain short circuited for a minute, missing a little bit of his next sentence), “—and Courfeyrac has these sleep walking spells once a month and Combeferre is useless because he wakes up exactly after he’s had eight hours of sleep and not a moment before and not a moment later. I don’t think a fire alarm would rouse him, much less Courfeyrac.” Enjolras tugged on his sweat pants and Grantaire’s t-shirt, which was surely an accident but it wasn’t like Grantaire was going to _tell_ him that.

“You take Bossuet and I’ll corral the naked man back into his bedroom?” Grantaire asked as he pulled on his sweat pants, the black ones that would cling to his ass in what was entirely an inappropriate manner but he had plans at this point. They were mostly centered around Enjolras’ bed.

“Sounds good.” Enjolras said as he stepped over to kiss Grantaire on the temple and then got a look at him in those pants, “Oh I’m going to kill you.” His voice was suddenly sand paper rough again and Grantaire grinned with unabashed glee.

“I would resent you if you didn’t.” He kissed Enjolras quickly and then stepped out, (now wearing those pants and the button up that Enjolras had been wearing the day before) “Someone point me in the direction of the n—oh well that answers that. Come on big guy let’s get you to bed.”

* * *

 

Somehow and without any injuries, Courfeyrac ended up back in bed and Bossuet was convinced to step away from the stove.

Enjolras had begged Grantaire to cook (nearly got on his knees which did really weird things to Grantaire’s pulse because that is so not where Enjolras should be) so Grantaire did. Enjolras’ shirt draping over his shoulders with the sleeves rolled up as he made the world’s largest batch of scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese and sour cream because hang over food was necessary. Enjolras made the blackest, strongest pot of coffee imaginable and vowed to do the dishes. The domesticity of cooking for his friends while his now boyfriend made coffee was astounding and utterly shocking to Grantaire; the closest thing he’d seen to domesticity was arguing in front of a television, silhouettes flickering in time with commercial breaks. This suited him much better.

Slowly Combeferre stumbled out of his bedroom, hair still wild with sleep and pushing up his glasses to rub his eyes and grumbling until Enjolras pushed a cup of coffee into his hands. “He doesn’t become a real person until coffee.” Enjolras commented, chin in his hands while Grantaire slid eggs on to plates and distributed them.

“Who wants bacon?” He asked, voice still low for Courfeyrac’s sake. Several hands shot up and he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth and grabbed the handle of the fridge door when he realized precisely what he could do.

He pulled open the door and bent low at the waist reaching into the refrigerator and made a little whine, “Enjolras where do you keep bacon? I know I saw it when I got the cheese…” Grantaire grinned when he heard the sound of Enjolras’ chair scraping against the floor.

“They should be in that top left…” His words slow as he came up behind Grantaire, “Oh two can play at this game Grantaire.” Enjolras’ voice had a warning tone that sent shivers down Grantaire’s spine in the most delightful manner. And then long fingers and strong hands were holding his hips. “Top left corner. Right in front of you darling.”

Grantaire grabbed the package of bacon and slowly leaned up, body still loose and pliant, and pressed his back against Enjolras’ chest and walked back toward the stove, “Thanks handsome. And if you could be a dear and start on that pan it’d be great.” He smiled and reached for another skillet hanging from the ceiling. “Who made this rack?”

“I did.” Enjolras said confidently, eyes tracking Grantaire. Bahorel snorted. “Okay so Bahorel helped.” And then Combeferre showing his first signs of cognizance chuckled and Enjolras had the decency to blush. “Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Bahorel built it and I…organized from the side lines.”

“He means bossed us around and told us when it was straight enough.” Bahorel said pointedly from his place on the couch, pointing with a spoon that was previously in his cup of coffee (if it could really be called that anymore, it was mostly sugar, whipped cream was involved).

“Enjolras knows when things are straight?” Grantaire quipped, smirking as he set strips of bacon on to the pan. Jehan let out a rich laugh and everyone at least smiled. Jokes like that were abound with a group of incredibly queer individuals, but they never stopped being funny.

“I didn’t hear you complain last night.” Enjolras said as he turned on the sink, setting the pan under the faucet.

“Mmm, that’s because I’m not.”

Everyone started their own conversations while Grantaire kept the heat on low, letting the bacon cook slowly, turning them with bare fingers, used to getting burned and splattered with oil. Gradually the room began to smell like bacon, and the very moment everyone could smell it the door to Ferre’s room flung open and Courf stood in sweat pants with half open eyes, “Bacon?”

No one should’ve laughed as hard as they did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!!! A really long chapter!! I hope you guys liked it!
> 
> Make sure to tell your friends and leave comments (and tell your friends to leave comments)!
> 
> Sorry for the wait tho guys, life is just getting hectic. We finally officially have the house we want but it needs to be properly cleaned and stuff before we can move in so we're not moving until April first, but we have to start getting things ready for the move and finding furniture and just gaudsfposljgzx
> 
> Life is hard and I did not sign up for this bullshit okay

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this rushed together haphazard assortment of words and feelings that I am shoving at you, but the Grantaire in my head is demanding I write his feelings and so is Enjolras because wow what stubborn little fucks am I right?


End file.
